


Let Me (Down)

by ImJaebabie



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, I DONT KNOW I DONT KNOW, I can't believe the pairings this made me tag, M/M, Slow Burn, Some Fluff, Why Did I Write This?, and i'm so sorry, anyway, basically i made everyone sad, basically school au, everyone is sad but also stupid, i can't believe i finished this without dying, i'm not joking this is just like 20000 words of terrible boy angst, low burn?, maybe????, no burn at all????, really minimal suicidal thoughts, sorry for all the tags, this is.....this is a horrible mess, uhhh.....hint of underage? not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-30 06:04:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8521282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImJaebabie/pseuds/ImJaebabie
Summary: Jaebum looks at things from a certain perspective.Mark reaches a revelation...or a few of them.All things come to a summit in the end.





	1. Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes i *did* hurt myself writing this, thanks for asking
> 
> i promise if you power through the stupid-long paragraphs at the beginning there will be actual dialogue!! and more!!

Jaebum's jaw tensed for the thousandth time that class, starting to ache. He was pretty sure a cramp was developing, but he couldn't help the subconscious action every time he saw the table a few rows ahead of him. There sat Youngjae paying close attention to the professor, dutifully taking notes like a good student. Next to Youngjae, and far closer than Jaebum approved of, was Mark, who was dutifully paying attention to Youngjae and not to class at all.

His jaw tensed again as Mark scribbled something on the corner of Youngjae's notebook and grinned.

Mercifully the bell rang just a few minutes later, and Jaebum hurriedly threw everything in his bag and pushed his way out of the room, brushing past the two without a word. If they called to him at all, he ignored it and walked quickly outside, heading toward his dorm where hopefully Jackson wouldn't yet be back, and where he could take an angry nap in relative peace. To his relief Jackson wasn't there, and Jaebum collapsed into his bed with a groan, burying his face in the pillow. Feeling like this only two weeks into the new semester, he wasn't sure how he was going to last for the rest of the year.

Images of Mark flirting with Youngjae flitted through Jaebum's head, continuing to exacerbate the anger that was creating a solid, painful feeling in his chest. He was so sick and tired of Mark going after and taking everything in life he'd ever wanted, Youngjae only being the most recent example.

It had been happening since high school. When Jaebum realized that he had a certain interest in another boy in class, the rambunctious and enthusiastic Jackson, he'd made slow and subtle efforts to spend more time with the other boy, moving to sit by him and laughing at all his ridiculous antics. Jackson was easy to befriend, and in no time they were thick as thieves. That was when Mark suddenly appeared, a new student moving there from another country and being held back a year, all shy and quiet and handsome; and immediately gravitating toward Jackson. Jaebum could only watch as the two grew close. When he arrived the very next morning, Mark was already there in his seat next to Jackson, smiling adorably as the other tried to help catch him up. Jaebum never got the seat back, and eventually resigned himself to letting the interest go as Jackson and Mark became inseparable. Occasionally Jackson would stop and chat with Jaebum, but Mark was never far behind and the conversation always instantly cooled when he approached.

So Jaebum moved on, settling for his barely-there friendship with Jackson and focusing on his studies. He had a few other friends, some in lower classes who he couldn't see much, and there was always Jinyoung. They'd seemingly always shared the same class, and when newly assigned to an extended project together Jaebum started to notice things he hadn't before. Jinyoung was a lot quieter than Jackson, but he often let loose his dry sense of humor that amused Jaebum to no end; and he was an exquisite type of classically handsome, something Jaebum grew to appreciate more and more as they met to study. He started to look forward to those study meetings, sometimes bringing coffee for the two of them or something his mom baked, and it wasn't long before Jaebum knew he'd fallen head-over-heels yet again. During one study session, Jaebum was quick to grab Jinyoung before he fell backwards; the other boy had been leaning dangerously so that his chair only had the back two feet on the ground, and it eventually slid. They both were a little shocked, Jaebum tightly gripping Jinyoung's arms and both red in the face, but even in that close proximity the latter didn't pull away immediately and Jaebum left that day feeling encouraged. He resolved to open up to his friend the next day at one of their remaining study times.

Jaebum stood frozen in the hallway the next morning before class, a terrible sight catching his eye and holding it. In one of the corners, slightly to the side of the traffic of students on their way to class, stood Jinyoung with his arms around Mark, the shorter boy obviously in tears and taking refuge in Jinyoung's sweater. Jaebum didn't even know they were friends. When he was able to move and go into class, he noticed Jackson looking simultaneously enraged and miserable, and soon learned that the two had just gone through an epic falling-out, leaving Mark to turn to Jinyoung for support. That one cancelled his study session with Jaebum that day, stating that a friend needed him. He meant Mark, of course, and Jaebum felt awfully the sensation that it was about to happen again, losing what he wanted to the bright American-born boy. The remaining study sessions were often cut short or similarly cancelled, such that the presentation went a lot less smoothly than planned, partly due to the distracting element of Mark sitting in front and offering supportive smiles to Jinyoung, and leaving Jaebum annoyed.

As those two spent more and more time together, Jaebum resigned himself again to let his feelings for Jinyoung drop. He rarely saw him anymore since the project ended, and so took to working alone. Occasionally he'd sit at lunch with two friends of his in a lower class, a Thai boy named Bambam and a tall kid named Yugyeom, but it was always difficult to really join in conversation as the two were very close and seemed to almost speak another language. So he spent time alone at school mostly, and went home after. Eventually he noticed Jackson following a similar pattern and joined him during a free period. Once they got over the mild awkwardness of reestablishing their old friendliness, Jaebum realized he might actually be able to be friends with Jackson again. He'd gotten over the crush and didn't pursue anything that way, but the friendship they had grew naturally and comfortably. With a little bit of guilt, Jaebum often found himself praying that Mark never found the courage to reconcile with Jackson, and for once the universe seemed to allow him this small mercy as the two seemed to only return to a cold politeness. Jaebum never asked what had happened; he honestly didn't care to know.

They continued this way until their senior year; Jaebum and Jackson leaning on each other as the closest of friends, Mark and Jinyoung becoming an inseparable item. Occasionally Jinyoung would try and reach out to Jaebum, complimenting him on an outfit or trying to joke about something from class. But it only pained Jaebum, who could always find Mark somewhere nearby keeping an eye on things, and so couldn't be comfortable enough to let a friendship rekindle. Jackson refused to go anywhere near Mark.

But everything changed when Youngjae appeared. A boy like sunshine incarnate, whose laugh could be heard ringing across the campus, who hated cucumbers and liked dogs, who loved everyone and was loved by everyone. He transferred into the year below Jaebum, but drew so much attention constantly that there was no ignoring him. And for some reason the school administration decided Jaebum was just the person to help acquaint the new student with the school; after a week of showing the kid around and helping him find class, Jaebum found he liked spending time around the energetic younger boy, who was a nice reprieve from Jackson's flip-flopping between overt enthusiasm and dramatic melancholy.

Jaebum handled himself with extreme caution, however, as he was well aware that Youngjae had no problem making friends; those friends included Mark and Jinyoung, who often doted on him. Yet, Youngjae always returned to Jaebum in moments of need, relying on him most when he ran into trouble, needed help with studying, or felt a little overwhelmed by the world. Jaebum himself didn't recognize it until Jackson finally pointed it out; he liked Youngjae, liked him a lot. He practically started shaking at the thought, paralyzed by the idea of failing once again, and decided immediately not to pursue anything despite Jackson's nagging. Mark was too close, and if history was anything to go by then Jaebum wasn't about to risk losing Youngjae completely. He suppressed the notion entirely, forcing himself to be satisfied with the moments that the younger boy demanded time with him, and turning a blind eye at any time Youngjae went near his nemesis.

In the last week of senior year, something magical took place. Youngjae sought out Jaebum in a study room he had reserved in a drastic attempt to find peace and quiet while studying furiously for his exams. These finals tests were what determined if he'd get the scholarships needed to attend the college of his choice, which incredibly had accepted him but he still needed help to afford. Jaebum smiled pleasantly, if wearily, at Youngjae when he entered; if he was honest, he'd have shouted at anyone else and demanded that they leave, but he was never able to send Youngjae away. The younger boy took the seat next to him and leaned on his shoulder, making Jaebum tense slightly and struggle to focus on his work.

"Hyung..." a quiet whine came from Youngjae, and he hooked his hand around Jaebum's elbow, forcing him to stop writing and look at him.

"What is it? I really need to study, Youngjae-ah."

The boy gave Jaebum the most compelling puppy-dog, aegyo eyes he'd ever seen, surpassing even Jackson's expert looks.

Youngjae sighed heavily. "I'm going to miss you so much next year," he admitted, childishly swiveling his chair. Jaebum swallowed hard, having been avoiding thinking about the topic himself. He set down his pen and turned to focus on Youngjae completely.

"It's okay," he reassured, "I'll come see you often, and you can visit me too. You might even want to check out the school for yourself! And...we can talk on the phone if you want, Youngjae-ah, nothing really has to change."

Youngjae's brow furrowed, which wasn't quite the response Jaebum was looking for. Concern started to bloom in the older boy's chest as he waited for his friend to speak.

"But they are going to change," he finally replied, "whether we want them to or not."

Jaebum hated that he was right, and there was little he could do about it.

"I was wondering though," Youngjae continued somewhat unexpectedly, "if they have to change, maybe we can decide how?" He looked up at Jaebum with intensity, and the elder couldn't quite figure what he meant or wanted from him in that moment.

Suddenly, Youngjae did the most shocking thing Jaebum could have imagined: he leaned forward and hesitantly kissed Jaebum on the cheek, pulling back to search Jaebum's surprised face for a response. "Just...think about it, hyung," he said, and hurriedly left. Jaebum couldn't move, and definitely wasn't able to study for the rest of the period. He did surprisingly well on all his tests, though.

At graduation, Jaebum concentrated solely on Youngjae's face in the audience, beaming back at him with pride and admiration as Jaebum received his scholarships and his diploma. After the ceremony Jaebum stepped away from where his and Jackson's families were chatting and went to find Youngjae, who greeted him with an animated hug.

"Congratulations hyung!" he gushed, eyes dancing.

This was the only chance, Jaebum realized, having thought all week about his vision of the next year. Taking Youngjae's hand, he quickly drew him away from the crowd of graduates to an empty classroom and shut them inside, before sweeping the younger up into a kiss he'd been holding onto for a year.

When he let go, Youngjae looked dazed. "Hyung..." he mumbled.

Jaebum took hold of his hands. "Youngjae-ah, I thought about what you said, how we could control the change. I want to do that. I want to become closer to you, not farther apart. What do you think?"

Youngjae broke into a smile. "I'm really glad you understood me, hyung, I thought maybe I wasn't very clear when I said that. Let's definitely become even closer."

The older boy couldn't help turning slightly red, a bit embarrassed that the younger had been the one, in the end, to actually initiate. But it didn't matter, he finally had something he really wanted, and he wasn't about to let anything or anyone take that away.

++

In his dorm room, Jaebum turned on his side to breathe better, no longer able to keep essentially suffocating in his pillow. He squeezed his eyes shut hard, the memories swirling into a mix of sweetness and pain, both from the difficult times and from knowing that anything good was in the past.

The first half of his first year at college had gone blissfully, with only the minor crinkle of having a surprising amount of classes with Mark of all people. Both of them, Jackson and Jinyoung had all managed to get into the same school, and naturally paired off as roommates. Ironically, Mark and he both ended up as business majors with minors in music, something Jaebum would never have guessed of his supposed enemy. Then again, he had never cared to learn much about Mark from the beginning. Sometimes he would catch Mark glancing at him during class, but he always made a pointed effort to avoid eye contact. The last thing he needed was the other thinking he could eventually win Jaebum over too.

Besides that, Jaebum made every effort to visit Youngjae often, and Youngjae came up on weekends frequently too, or occasionally during the week to sit in on a class. Jaebum dared to think he might be living the dream like this, and wrapped that thought deliciously around himself like a thick blanket that blocked out any negative thing.

One Friday late in the year when Youngjae was visiting, the pair decided to take the long way back from Jaebum's class and enjoy the Autumn colors and cool air. Sipping hot coffees and walking peacefully, Jaebum once again absorbed every bit of the beauty of his life that he could.

That was, until Youngjae shattered it with a simple observation.

"Jaebum-hyung," he began innocently, "I didn't realize before how many classes you share with Mark-hyung here. Don't you guys ever hang out or get lunch or anything?"

Jaebum's favorite sugary coffee suddenly tasted entirely bitter. "No, never," he answered bluntly. He hadn't really expressed to Youngjae why he despised the handsome boy that everyone else seemed to love, and he'd never really intended to bring it up.

Youngjae seemed confused. "That's weird, I thought you guys would get along well. You're even studying the same stuff."

Shrugging, Jaebum tried to act casually as though it just didn't interest him. "I don't really need another friend," he replied, the word tasting bland when in reference to Mark, "I have Jackson. And more importantly, I have you."

"But didn't you used to be close with Jinyoung-hyung too? He and Mark-hyung are always together, I just can't believe you all aren't friends." Youngjae pressed.

Jaebum stiffened visibly at the mention of Jinyoung, having pushed all thought of that history out of his mind for so long. It felt like Youngjae was unintentionally digging into the cemetery of old injuries buried in the bottom of his heart, something he had little power to endure. He took as deep a breath as possible and turned to Youngjae, trying to convey his seriousness on the subject.

"We just aren't, alright, Youngjae-ah? Let it go."

He did let it go, for a time. Through the holidays Jaebum thought his heart would burst from contentedness, spending most of his break with Youngjae and their families, slowly preparing for the next semester to be as perfect as the first. Youngjae also announced that he was working hard to apply and be accepted to the same school, something that Jaebum had expected but was still overjoyed to hear.

Unfortunately, however, Jaebum learned that one of his most important scholarships had fallen apart due to a circumstance outside his control, and so he started out the year by finding a part-time job to work while continuing to study full time. Instantly his schedule became impossibly busy and exhausting, and required a sharp drop in the time he was able to spend with Youngjae. He could almost never visit home, and when the younger boy visited, Jaebum still had to work long shifts and then fit his study in as well. Youngjae put up a good front about it, but Jaebum could tell it was difficult for him to spend time alone in Jaebum's dorm when he visited, as Jackson wasn't there either due to his fencing practice schedule.

One visit when Youngjae came up for a week on a break, however, something shifted. Youngjae seemed more relaxed when Jaebum came back from work each day, and less like he'd just been waiting around for hours. Then Jaebum came back that Friday night from work to find Youngjae not in his dorm at all, and panic flooded his system. He frantically called him, to no answer, and was in the middle of worrying loudly at Jackson on the phone when Youngjae appeared in the door. Jaebum immediately enveloped him in a hug, holding tightly.

"Where were you??" he demanded, the panic taking some time to dissipate, "Jackson and I nearly went on a search of the whole campus! Don't just take off without telling me, please!"

Youngjae laughed. "You're so weird, hyung, I was fine. I know my way around this place. Besides I wasn't in any danger, I just went to visit Mark-hyung again while you were working because I got bored."

Ice swept through Jaebum's veins, picturing Youngjae hanging out innocently in Mark's dorm, unaware of being the lamb in a wolf's den. "What?" he responded dumbly.

"Yeah, it turns out that Jinyoung-hyung took a semester abroad, so Mark's been really bored too lately. Also, did you know that he has a dog? This really cute little one that he snuck on campus without the RAs knowing! She's really quiet so they haven't found out yet! Anyway, we took her out for a walk and got some coffee, and-"

Jaebum couldn't concentrate on what Youngjae was actually saying anymore, too caught up in the dread and fear. He cut off the younger boy mid-sentence. "Youngjae, what do you mean _again_?"

"Oh," Youngjae replied, looking a little guilty, "I just..well I've been hanging out with him most of this week whenever you were at work."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I know you guys aren't really friends, and you never seem to want to talk about why...I just didn't think it was a big deal, he's my friend even if he isn't yours. And I get really bored, hyung, like really really bored."

The coldness crept from Jaebum's veins into his face and hands, into his whole tone and being. He let go of Youngjae and moved away. "Oh, I'm sorry I'm boring you so much, then. I didn't realize it was such a waste of time for you to come see me."

"Hyung! That isn't what I meant!" Youngjae argued emphatically. "Please don't get mad!"

Jaebum didn't want to be mad, but the old hurts were appearing again and he was having a hard time fighting them back. He turned back toward Youngjae. "Then don't go hangout with...with _him_ anymore, okay?"

"Why-"

"Please just don't!" He shouted, desperate, then regretted it. Youngjae looked shocked.

"Okay, I'm sorry. I won't go." The younger boy gathered his things, though, and started back toward the door. Jaebum stopped him, panicked again.

"I thought you said-"

"I have to go home Jaebum!" Youngjae interjected, exasperation clear on his normally soft, happy features. "It's my mom's birthday this weekend, remember? I'll see you in a couple weeks."

++

Jaebum groaned at this last particular memory, curling his body into the fetal position and pulling at his hair. He couldn't stop the memory slideshow as it seemed to attack him, and it was giving him physical pain as it drew closer and closer to the worst day of his life. He whimpered, trying and failing to prepare for the most painful part.

For those couple weeks Jaebum worried constantly that he'd ruined, no, that Mark had ruined everything with Youngjae. When he came up again finally, Jaebum took the weekend off work and solely spent time with him; partly to be absolutely certain that Youngjae didn't see Mark, but mostly to make clear just how important Youngjae was to him, in every sense. When Youngjae left before Jaebum's class Monday morning, he felt like the bliss had been restored. Jackson shook his head as Jaebum gave Youngjae a kiss before he left, mocking them lightly. "You guys disgust me a little, you know?" He said, laughing.

For a few months everything seemed better again. When Youngjae was there, Jaebum would work a little less, and he'd take a day off now and then to make his own visits home. That seemed to take care of Youngjae's boredom, and so Jaebum felt that everything was as it should be. He took off another entire weekend to go home and celebrate when Youngjae got accepted to the school, and suddenly Jaebum was picturing the next few years in an even brighter light than before.

With just a short amount of time left in the year, Youngjae visited again on his spring break, bringing sunshine even though Jaebum didn't similarly have the time off. On his second morning there, Youngjae went out early before Jaebum's work shift to get them their favorite coffee. A few minutes after he left, Jaebum realized he was craving a certain drink, and called the other to tell him, only to hear the ringtone Youngjae set for him go off in the other room.

"Idiot, he forgot his phone.." Jaebum muttered fondly to himself, finding the device on the kitchen counter. He picked it up to stop the ringing and admire the cute picture of them that was Youngjae's wallpaper. At that moment, a text popped up.

A text from Mark, who contact was followed by “hyung” and a cute little dog emoji.

The horrible, familiar feeling of ice swept over Jaebum again as he read the words, sincerely hoping it was some sick hallucination.

_"Are you coming over again today?"_

Jaebum read them over and over, just to be sure he was seeing properly, and put the phone back on the counter while fighting the urge to reply. His self control lasted only a minute before he grabbed the phone and furiously wrote back:

_"No, he's not. And don't you ever fucking talk to him again. -Jaebum"_

With that, hew threw the phone onto the sofa, watching as it bounced onto the floor, he hoped without breaking. Within seconds the phone began buzzing, a different ringtone playing loudly and asking to be answered. It finally stopped, but the text tone that followed over and over again pissed Jaebum off even more. When he couldn't take it another second, Jaebum grabbed his things and headed to the door, just as Youngjae arrived with the coffee.

"Hyung! They had your favorite this morning, those warm cookies! I got the last one so we can split-"

Jaebum couldn't handle Youngjae's lovely brightness while knowing he'd been lying to him, and simply brushed past the younger boy without taking the coffee. "I have to go to work," he said coldly, gritting his teeth, "I'm already late."

"But-"

Whatever else Youngjae said was lost on Jaebum as he slammed the door shut behind him and hurried away, putting as much distance as possible between himself and the source of the immense pain that was nearly blinding him. His job was in a different part of the city, and it was on the bus ride there when his phone started going off. He ignored every call from Youngjae, and only glanced at all the pleading texts.

_"Hyung, I'm so sorry."_

_"Please let me explain!"_

_"Please Jaebum, I'm so so sorry, just answer my call."_

_"Or, don't. Let's..let's talk when you get home. Please. I love you."_

Jaebum fought back tears at that text, the pain now burning hot. Despite everything, despite knowing it for more than a year, he'd never been able to actually say that to Youngjae, to actually say the words: "I love you." He was too terrified of them, and now he couldn't imagine how to say them at all.

Halfway through his shift, Jaebum's phone started buzzing in his pocket. He stepped into the restaurant kitchen to check the screen, seeing an unknown number, then answered while quickly moving outside to take the call.

"Hello?"

_"Jaebum, it's Mark, you need to listen for a second-"_

White hot rage exploded behind Jaebum's eyes. "How the fuck did you get my number?!" he growled into the phone.

_"I asked Youngjae. But listen, about this morning I-"_

"Don't you dare talk about him to me! Don't talk to me at all!" Jaebum shouted, and hung up. He aimed a kick at a bottle that happened to be sitting beside the dumpster he was standing next to, and the small item went flying before shattering loudly against the wall opposite. After a few minutes of attempting to cool off he went back to work, but after consistently making mistakes in front of the customers his boss pulled him aside.

"Look, I don't know what's going on with you, but you're obviously in no state to work. Go home, Jaebum, you're done for today."

Jaebum wanted to argue, but the man clearly wasn't going to change his mind. He made the bus ride home, thought about Youngjae being there, and turned another direction as soon as he got off. He didn't really look where he was going, just walked and tried not to feel like the whole world had just collapsed out from under his feet. His text tone went off, an unnamed but familiar number.

_"Jaebum. Talk to Youngjae."_

_"Fuck you. Delete my number."_ He typed back.

Mark persisted, like Jaebum expected he would considering how he never let Jaebum have a single moment's peace. _"I will when you talk to Youngjae! Do you even know how he's feeling right now?"_

Jaebum didn't know. It hurt to think about Youngjae being upset, but it was his own fault. His and Mark's. He didn't reply, and called Jackson instead.

 _"Jaebum, where the hell are you? You need to come back here. Youngjae hasn't stopped crying for hours, I have no idea what to do,"_ his friend stressed, worry evident in his voice.

For hours? Jaebum winced, pausing his directionless steps.

 _"Are you there hyung? Jaebum, seriously, come back here right now."_ Jackson urged.

"Fine. I'm coming."

It took him five minutes of standing in front of his own door before he could work up the strength to open it. Jackson sat at the kitchen table, a cup of green tea growing cold and ignored in his hands. He looked up at Jaebum as he entered, sighed deeply, and pointed at Jaebum's room. "He's in there," he informed, "please go fix this."

Jaebum pushed into his room quietly, his heart beating wildly in a stressful mixture of anger and concern. Curled up in the middle of his bed was Youngjae, facing away from the door. The older boy closed the door behind himself and took a seat at the end of the bed, not speaking. He had no idea what to say. After a moment he felt a shift on the bed, and Youngjae's arms wrapping around him from behind.

"Jaebum-hyung, I thought you wouldn't come back.." he whispered sadly, face buried in Jaebum's shoulder blade.

"I wasn't going to. But this isn't Jackson's problem to deal with."

"Hyung.."

"Why did you lie to me, Youngjae-ah?" Jaebum untangled himself from the other's grasp and turned to look at him, wishing he could speak less coldly.

Youngjae cringed, and Jaebum saw now how red and puffy his eyes were from crying. "Hyung, I'm sorry," he replied, "but it was so unfair."

Jaebum grit his teeth. "Lot's of things are unfair. I just asked you not to spend time with Mark. That shouldn't be that hard."

"He's my friend!"

"It was _one request_ Youngjae!! I never asked you for anything else!!"

More tears started to spill out of the younger's eyes. "Why can't I see him, Jaebum!? You won't even tell me why you hate him!"

"You should just trust me!"

"How can I trust you if you won't explain!?"

"Because he took everything! Okay!?" Jaebum finally shouted, standing with a jolt. "He took everything I ever cared about without even trying! He took _all of it_ , Youngjae, and I won't let him have you!"

Youngjae stared at Jaebum where he stood shaking, seething with years worth of slow burning anger in his eyes behind the sheen of tears threatening to fall. "What do you mean, everything?" he asked quietly, pure confusion written on his face.

Jaebum swiped an arm across his eyes, trying to keep it together and failing. "I mean everything! First, he took Jackson, the first person I had ever deeply cared about, and I was miserable for months while they had each other. Then the minute I move on, the _very day I had hope again_ , he took that too. Jinyoung was all I had, and he took him away effortlessly. Why do you think I never tried to reach out to you earlier? Every time I get close to someone, fucking _Mark Tuan_ comes in and they're gone!"

Youngjae was silent for a few moments, eyes locked on the the quilt covering Jaebum's bed. Finally he looked up again. "So, they knew right?"

"What?"

"They knew how you felt, Jackson and Jinyoung."

"I never- I never got the chance to tell them," Jaebum stuttered in confusion, "Mark took them too quickly."

"And forbid you from speaking to them? Kept them locked away somewhere?"

"Well no, he just-"

"Hyung, you literally live with Jackson. And I saw Jinyoung speak to you plenty of times in school," Youngjae was, Jaebum realized incredulously, trying to argue with him.

"You don't understand."

"No, I really don't. I know Mark-hyung, and I can't imagine him doing anything like that on purpose. I've always thought you two would get along well, and he's never said anything bad about you; it's just you that's angry. Jaebum-hyung, did it ever occur to you that _you_ might be the problem? Why don't- why don't we just go talk to him?"

Youngjae got up then, reaching for Jaebum who stood frozen in complete shock, ears ringing with words that made no sense to him, and starting to feel ill. As Youngjae nearly touched his arm, the older boy jerked away like he'd been electrocuted.

"Don't touch me!" he snapped, and the other's eyes widened as he pulled back a step.

Jaebum's voice was deep and threatening as he continued, "Go talk to him yourself, and just stay there. It's obvious he's already won you over too, so you might as well leave."

"Hyung!"

Jaebum turned away from Youngjae and stepped quickly into the bathroom attached to his room, slamming and locking the door behind him before sliding down on the floor against it. He didn't know at what point he'd gotten so dizzy, but the whole world felt like it was spinning and he felt as though he might throw up at any moment.

The other beat on the door, not giving up yet. "Are you serious!?" He shouted, "You are being so unreasonable! Yah! Im Jaebum!"

He sat on that cold bathroom floor, hoping in spite of his own words that Youngjae wouldn't go, that he'd keep beating on the door till Jaebum broke down and came out again, that he'd say he didn't mean it and was sorry. But that wasn't the case. Soon it got quiet, and Jaebum waited a good while before finally coming out to his empty room.

Jackson was still in the kitchen, now without his tea. "He left, Jaebum." he said, looking at the other coldly, "You really fucked that up."

After a moment staring at the dorm door, Jaebum returned silently to his room. He couldn't bring himself to lay on the bed where Youngjae had so recently been, but instead took the blanket off his chair and curled up on the floor, shivering. He didn't move for a long time.

++

Jaebum was glad that Jackson's practice seemed to be running overtime, as the memory of that day increased the stabbing pains that seemed to exist somewhere near his lungs. He felt like he was breathing in glass, and had been feeling this way for months. Youngjae didn't come back that night, or the next day, or at all. A small part of Jaebum had hoped he would come back to him, repentant, but he never did. In fact, he didn't visit again that semester, and Jaebum took more hours at work, studied harder, visited home less.

He didn't go to Youngjae's graduation, despite his family pestering him for weeks about it; he knew who would be there. When Summer came he couldn't stomach the idea of going home, knowing he could run into any of them randomly back in that small town; so Jaebum worked through the Summer so he could pay for the next year, and only took a couple trips to see family. Jackson eventually dropped the coldness toward Jaebum and would hang out occasionally, when Jaebum's boss wouldn't let him take another shift and Jackson didn't have a tournament. He'd stayed in the university town similarly to Jaebum, for all the competitions nearby.

As the next semester rolled around, Jaebum decided to pick up a history elective, something that interested him, and was surprised to find Jinyoung also in the class. He looked different, like his semester abroad for his art & film major had matured him, and somehow even more beautiful. Jaebum was startled to receive a pleasant smile from him at the end of the first class.

Jinyoung stopped him as they left, cutting off his path in the hallway.

"Jaebum, how are you?" He asked warmly, no hint of the past evident in his face.

He wasn't sure how to respond. "Uh...fine."

The other tilted his head slightly, small changes in his face creating a micro-expression that told Jaebum he knew he was lying. "Okay, that's good. I'll see you around." He smiled pleasantly for a second time before walking away.

Jaebum watched Jinyoung leave, utterly baffled. It had been so long since they spoke so casually that way, just like friends, he honestly didn't know what to think of it. But it wasn't the last time, as Jinyoung frequently stopped to chat with Jaebum after that, even just that very morning before the class with Youngjae and Mark. He had asked Jaebum if he wanted to get lunch together, which Jaebum had refused, but only because he knew he’d be feeling terrible later. Otherwise, he had wanted to say yes.

++

A collection of small crashes jolted Jaebum out of his pitiful reverie as Jackson returned from practice, unceremoniously dropping his fencing gear in the shared space. As much as Jaebum prayed he wouldn't, Jackson then rudely let himself into Jaebum's room and stalked over to his bed, standing over him with disapproval.

"Again, Jaebum? Two weeks of this is enough. Get up, now." The younger demanded, reaching over to slap Jaebum's arm.

"Leave me alone, you jerk," he replied, skin tingling from the assault.

Jackson didn't. "No. Did you take fewer hours at work so you could have more pity parties and skip more meals this semester? Get up, I'm starving and you're coming with me, I know you need to eat. I don't know why you took the most masochistic class schedule."

A rumble sounded from Jaebum's stomach, betraying him, and Jackson reached for his ankle to try and pull him off the bed. Jaebum swatted him away, groaning. "Stop it- stop! I'm coming, Jackson, dammit just let me get up." The other allowed him that much, and Jaebum missed the expression of worry that Jackson wore at seeing his friend like that; Jaebum was thinner and paler than he had been, looking recently like a strong wind could take him out.

In the cafeteria Jackson directed Jaebum into a chair and disappeared briefly, only to return with two large plates of food that he proceeded to force-feed his friend. Despite Jaebum's attempts to swerve aside, Jackson kept pressuring him with bites of different things.

"Yah, I can eat on my own, you know," Jaebum snapped, mouth full of rice from Jackson's latest attack.

"Right but you haven't been, so I'm making sure of it." Jackson relented, however, due to the glare he received in response and the fact that Jaebum was actually eating well.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Jackson cleared his throat. "So, I uh, wanted to ask you, back then, why didn't you ever tell me?"

They both knew what he meant, and Jaebum had been hoping not to have to discuss the subject. He'd hoped Jackson hadn't even heard that part.

Jaebum swallowed his bite slowly, not looking up from his plate. "I couldn't. You were always with _him_."

"You could have anyway. I would've listened to you, after all it's not like he was controlling me."

Not wanting to be angry again, Jaebum let it drop, and didn't respond.

"Do you know _why_ Mark and I fought at the end?" Jackson pressed, and received a shake of the head in response. "I really liked him at the time. I liked him from the moment he showed up, and we'd been spending all our time together, so I figured he liked me too. But when I told him, do you know what he said?"

Jaebum didn't.

"He said, 'what about Jaebum?' and that made me so mad. Because he always asked about you during those weeks, especially whenever you let me talk to you for a few minutes. It was always, 'Is Jaebum going to hangout with us?' or 'Do you think we should invite him along?' and I got really annoyed about it, because I liked him and didn't want to hear about someone else. But he never gave me a solid response to my confession. And you never told me, but he knew somehow, and thought you should have a chance, or something. So I said some horrible stuff to him, and really hurt him, and sent him away out of spite."

Jaebum had stopped eating, his whole understanding of about six months of his life completely blowing up. After all this time, it was Jackson who had pulled himself away, and then ended up hurting Mark anyway.

"Anyway, I just thought you should know," Jackson finished, and turned back to his food.

They walked back to their dorm in silence, Jackson texting away and Jaebum lost in thought. He didn't hold anything against Jackson at this point; they'd been friends for so long since then that he couldn't see the point. And Youngjae's words kept ringing in his ears: _"You literally live with Jackson."_ He'd been right, Jackson had come back. Jaebum didn't know why he'd given that so little credence.

Jackson insisted on Jaebum going with him to eat again every day for the rest of the week, forcing the older boy out of his depressing habits, with the exception of Friday when he had a tournament out of town.

Walking out of morning class, someone called to Jaebum and he turned to find Jinyoung behind him, still shoving notes and things into his messenger bag.

Jaebum chuckled. "You used to be so neat and organized," he commented, noting the hastily stowed items.

"I still am, I was just in a hurry," Jinyoung replied, smiling with a slight tinge of pink in his cheeks. Jaebum easily remembered why he'd been drawn to Jinyoung in the first place, feeling an old familiar flutter in his chest. "Would you like to get lunch today? Or are you busy?"

He had no plans until his shift at the restaurant later that evening, so Jaebum nodded. "Sure, if you want."

Jinyoung briefly checked his phone, walking alongside Jaebum toward the campus cafeteria, but started to pull him another direction when he realized where they were headed. "Let's go off campus, I'm getting bored of the food here," he said when the other gave him a look. They ended up at little French-themed cafe, which wasn't surprising since Jinyoung had been in Europe the past semester and most of the summer. It wasn't really Jaebum's taste, but Jinyoung seemed more relaxed there.

Stories from his time abroad spilled out of Jinyoung easily, taking some of the pressure off Jaebum to talk. He'd always liked just listening to the other, letting him control the conversation the way he used to control their study sessions, filling in the silence with his resonant voice. It had gotten deeper, Jaebum realized. He loved that voice more than any other sound in the world...until Youngjae's laugh came into his life.

"Jaebum...Jaebum-hyung? Hello?" Jinyoung waved a hand in front of the other's face.

"Sorry Jinyoung-ah, I spaced out for a second. You were saying?"

He laughed. "That's just like you, getting distracted inside your own head. What were you thinking about?"

Jaebum hesitated, never good at lying on the fly, and not prepared to bring up his old moth-eaten feelings or Youngjae as topics for conversation. He paused too long, and watched as overly-intuitive Jinyoung caught on.

"You could ask me, you know," that one said gently, confusing Jaebum.

"Ask what?"

"How he is. You could ask, he hasn't forbid us from telling you. What with sharing a house with him, I'm kind of in the know."

Jaebum swallowed dryly, feeling a familiar stinging at the corners of his eyes. He'd been wondering that exact thing for months, assuming from his brief glimpses in class that Youngjae had just moved on seamlessly. But the question wouldn't come out, the words wouldn't flow out of his lips onto the air where they could be heard and answered. Jaebum didn't know if he was telling himself he didn't care, or if he just felt he didn't deserve to know. Then again, if it involved Mark, he probably didn't want to.

Jinyoung sighed at Jaebum's silence, idly pushing a bread-crust around his plate. "Well, when you're ready, then."

++

Life started to normalize slightly for Jaebum, between work and classes and taking his meals with either Jackson or Jinyoung. Neither forced him to bring up that difficult topic again, instead letting an easy friendship grow back into the place where Jaebum had previously only had heartbreak. It didn't fill all his empty space, but he could start to admit to himself that some of the moth balls were getting dusted away.

New information came to light again at a later lunch, where Jinyoung and Jaebum were calmly chatting when Jackson arrived with a clamor, dropping his fencing duffel loudly as usual and dropping into the seat beside Jaebum at their quiet table in the more secluded corner. He was two bites into Jaebum's food before he properly looked up and acknowledged that someone was sitting across from his roommate, and stopped short.

Jaebum sat in surprise as Jackson and Jinyoung simply stared at each other for a while, neither really moving and wearing similarly blank expressions that just slightly edged on distaste. It took a few minutes for it to occur to the older boy that perhaps the two might not have the best history themselves. Jackson had never opened up to Jaebum about it, and Jaebum had selfishly never asked.

"You didn't tell me you weren't alone," Jackson said to him, not taking his eyes off Jinyoung. The other's jaw tightened slightly.

Jaebum shook his head. "I didn't know it mattered." Texting Jackson that he should join him in the cafeteria had been such a natural move, he'd never thought to add that someone else was already present.

"Jackson..."

He cut Jinyoung off, leaning back in his chair with crossed arms in an obvious display of distrust. "I don't know that I'm interested in talking to you."

Jaebum nearly spit out his food, and Jinyoung sighed so heavily it felt like the table might break underneath the weight. "At some point I'd really like the chance to clear some things up, though..."

"No thanks."

"Hold on," Jaebum interjected, turning to Jackson, "aren't you the one who was pestering me about dealing with my problems and talking to people??"

"This is different, he doesn't deserve any of that from me." He waved a hand at Jinyoung dismissively.

Jinyoung scoffed lightly, the condescending expression he wore fitting him almost as well as the dark turtleneck he had on. "You don't know what you're saying. You're holding on to old misunderstandings that don't even matter."

In a flash, Jackson shifted forward off his chair, placing two hands on the table and facing the other directly. In this stance his athlete's strength was clearly visible through his fitted training clothes, something Jaebum was sure he meant to use as an intimidation factor. He kept his voice low in replying, "You want to do this here? This is where you want to finally get things out in the open?"

Jinyoung stared back hard, showing no weakness despite the fact that Jackson literally had a sabre within reach. "He never really loved me."

The words dropped like a bomb. Jaebum saw Jackson's elbows buckle slightly, the boy barely catching himself to remain upright. He was shocked himself, hearing this from Jinyoung so bluntly.

"W-what?" Jackson replied cleverly.

"Would you sit down, please?"

Once he did, Jinyoung continued. "I know you've hated me all this time because you think I made him fall for me, or something. He let it look like that on purpose, I think, even though he still doesn't admit it." He paused, twisting his drink cup back and forth between his long fingers. Jaebum idly wondered why these conversations seemed to keep happening over meals.

"First he just needed someone because you, his one friend, hurt him so badly," Jinyoung started again, and Jackson cringed, paling visibly, "so I was there for him as a friend. I was there _a lot_ , so much that I couldn't help starting to like that miserable, vulnerable boy with the big doe-eyes and delicate skin and..."Jinyoung inhaled sharply, eyes briefly squeezing shut. When he pulled himself together, he continued. "Anyway, it was all sort of a mistaken mess back then."

Jackson shook his head. "No, what do you mean? You liked him, he liked you, everyone was emotional, blah blah, whatever. That doesn't explain why I shouldn't still be really pissed at you."

"You're not listening properly. He didn't like me, he was hurt and wanted someone. You sent him away, and he didn't know anyone else, and I'm weak. I'm so weak that after days and weeks of him acting like the world was ending, I tried kissing him to comfort him, because I couldn't take anymore. I thought I solved everything with that, it seemed to work so I did more..." Seeing Jackson's pale turn quickly to angry red, Jinyoung cleared his throat. "What I'm saying is, it was a long time before I realized he'd barely opened up to me at all. He acted pretty happy a lot, but you know he talks so little, and then I'd catch him looking so sad and wouldn't know why, and it took me so long to see that things were mostly physical and even that had started feeling pretty empty. But any time I tried to confront him about it, he'd kiss me and beg me not to think like that. Still empty."

The other two sat speechless, the revelation taking time to process and only slowly sinking in.

"So when you went abroad..." Jaebum finally offered, seeing a connection.

"I always wanted to do it, but I was originally going to wait till later in my studies. Then I realized I needed to separate myself. I couldn't take being in love with someone who could only give that back halfway. Hating him for it wouldn't help, it wasn't his fault, except for clinging to me like a crutch for so long. But I had to go."

Jackson opened and shut his mouth a few times, moving his hands around uselessly to grasp at nothing. "So...so if all this time it wasn't you, and it wasn't me, then who... _was_ there anyone..."

Standing and removing his finished food from the table, Jaebum cut into the middle of Jackson's thought. "I think it's pretty obvious, who." He stated coldly, grabbing his dark green jacket and heading for the door.

Jackson made to follow him, but Jinyoung reached out a hand to catch him, stopping him short.

"Don't, I think we need to let him go on this one."

"He's just going to sulk and let it eat away at him again!"

Jinyoung tugged Jackson back firmly as he tried again to move. "Still. Just...check in on him later."

++

Contrary to their belief, Jaebum did not head back toward his dorm. Instead he paced around the campus aimlessly, trying to absorb and make sense of the overwhelming amount of information with which he'd suddenly been gifted. A sturdy wind had picked up, and the scattered leaves that flew in scurries around his feet as he walked seemed to be matching pace with all the swirling thoughts he couldn't organize inside his head.

Mark had stolen Jackson. No. Jackson had....stolen himself? Left Jaebum behind? Except that they had still occasionally spoken and Jaebum apparently could have spoken his mind...and what was all that about Mark constantly bringing Jaebum's name up?

Jaebum shook his head with a groan, purposefully leaving his hair a ridiculous mess before shoving his hands deep into his jeans pockets.

Jinyoung then. That was still true, that Mark had stolen him, taken his heart even and abused it. So Jaebum could still be mad about that, he reasoned, except...Jaebum knew how much it hurt to feel like you'd lost your only person, so could he blame Mark for needing another friend?

Well, he had been for this long, so he didn't see why he couldn't keep on doing so.

And there was still...there was still Youngjae. Jaebum stopped walking and realized he'd left campus behind, instead prowling down a wooded path that extended out from it, where leaves and gravel crunched under his boots and the quiet surprised him. He'd been walking so quickly that he had to catch his breath, and dropped down onto a tree stump that conveniently presented itself, letting the early autumn cold wrap around him and cool him down.

Youngjae...had absolutely been pursued and stolen from him, right out from underneath his fingertips when Jaebum thought he'd never been happier. Like dragging Jinyoung along wasn't enough for him, Mark had to take the sun right out of the sky and trick it into captivity, leaving Jaebum in darkness.

The anger that had abated slightly over the past several weeks flared hot and voracious once again inside Jaebum, consuming every part of him. But, differently than before, it even consumed the sadness, and instead of wanting to hide tortuously in his room Jaebum wanted for the first time to tear things apart, to stop having things passively ripped away.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled back through months of texts to an unnamed number he'd only communicated with on one specific, horrible day. He started a text, deleted it, and hit the call button.

The person picked up almost immediately.

" _Jaebum??_ " Mark's oddly deep voice answered, a tone of confusion perforating that single word.

"I knew you lied, you asshole. You were supposed to delete my number."

The line was briefly silent. Then, " _...what is it you want?_ "

A dangerous grin that Mark couldn't see spread across Jaebum's lips as he replied, "You and I need to have a talk. Right now."

" _...Okay. Where are you? I'll come to you._ "

Jaebum almost hated that Mark was so compliant, but looking around his deserted setting as it quickly lost daylight, he couldn't think of a better place to get this out. "The footpath heading towards downtown, behind the-."

" _-Fine Arts Building, I know it. I'll be there soon._ " He hung up, leaving Jaebum slightly bewildered at how Mark Tuan had just effortlessly finished his sentence for him.

He didn't have to wait long; the lithe brunette approaching in the fading evening light no more than ten minutes later. He looked slightly out of breath, as though he'd run part way there, but had walked the last stretch to where Jaebum stood near one of the handful of lamps that lit the path at night once the light was low enough.

"Hi," Mark greeted Jaebum, oddly casual and mismatched to Jaebum's mood, looking a mixture of concerned and nervous in his over-sized sweatshirt and skinny jeans. It had always annoyed Jaebum that he looked so innocent and non-threatening.

Jaebum skipped the pleasantries and got right to the point. "Give me Youngjae back," he demanded.

Mark's expression didn't change as he shrugged his shoulders, scraping one heel through the gravel. "Not possible."

"Excuse me?!"

"I said it's not possible-"

"I heard what you fucking said, you piece of-"

"Because I don't _have_ Youngjae. He’s not a possession, you know."

Jaebum choked on his words, not comprehending, then growing even angrier, especially at the twisting of his words. "Don't give me that shit!!" he shouted, advancing toward the other. "You sneak around behind my back for a year with him, meanwhile treating Jinyoung like some security blanket, and still deny this to my face?!"

Mark had the audacity to look stunned, standing with his arms limply at his sides like some kind of lanky rag-doll. "Amazing. You really are delusional. I thought Youngjae was exaggerating, but you've totally convinced yourself."

The idea that Youngjae had called him delusional hit like a poison dart in Jaebum's side, stinging awfully. "D-delusional?" He stuttered, utterly thrown.

"Have you really believed all this time that I'm the sole source of everything bad in your life? That everything I do revolves around somehow taking the things you love?"

"Well if the shoe fits!"

"It fits you perfectly; you're delusional. It's kind of a relief, here I was thinking you were just a coward."

Jaebum punched Mark in the face, sending the smaller boy sprawling back on the gravel. He groaned, sitting up to lean on his elbow and gingerly touch the corner of his lips, where a rose of a bruise was already starting to bloom along with a tiny trickle of blood. "I was wondering when you'd crack..." he mused with no real humor in his voice, and Jaebum dropped to a knee, grasping the collar of Mark's sweatshirt. Mark wrapped both hands around Jaebum's wrists, locking them together. Jaebum wanted so badly to just beat the other boy into the ground, taking out the years of fury and frustration on him, but two things stopped him. One was the appearance of Jackson, Jinyoung and Youngjae, who wasted no time pulling Jaebum off the older boy. The other, just moments before they arrived, was the profound sadness present in Mark's gaze; it wasn't angry, or mocking or challenging at Jaebum, just deeply sad and hurt. And he had absolutely no idea what it was trying to communicate. At that moment Jinyoung's words from earlier that evening had rung in Jaebum's ears: " _I'd catch him looking so sad and wouldn't know why._ " Then the others were there, and Jaebum was thrown back onto the gravel and held separate by Jackson, while Jinyoung and Youngjae worried over Mark.

"Dammit Jaebum!" Jackson growled at him, shaking his shoulder, "What the hell do you think you're doing?! If I'd known you were going to do this and not just go sulk in your room I wouldn't have let you go!"

Jaebum just rolled his eyes, still too confused, and fixated on Youngjae clinging to Mark's arm while Jinyoung dabbed at his lip with a tissue. The younger one startled Jaebum by glancing over at him, tears threatening obviously in his eyes along with what Jaebum truly, truly hoped and prayed wasn't a look of hate.

"I can't believe you would do this, hyung," the boy whispered, "I really didn't think...and if we hadn't come when we did-"

"He wasn't going to do anything more. I would've been fine. I am fine." Mark interrupted, taking Jinyoung's hand to help him stand. Jackson didn't so much help Jaebum off the ground as hauled him to his feet, roughly releasing him when he felt sure Jaebum wouldn't attack. That one brushed the dust and leaves off his clothing, his hand and wrist starting to ache from the impact of his punch.

The pain was unfamiliar; he'd never hit anyone before, and while he wasn't keen on the idea of injuring his hand more by forcing it into collision with another person, Jaebum had definitely been ready to inflict more pain on Mark. So why was the other so sure he wouldn't have? Their gazes met, and while the immense sadness was still present, there was also an almost defiant look now that dared Jaebum to contradict him.

Jinyoung started to pull Mark away, back down the path toward the residence halls, with Youngjae quick to follow along and take Mark's hand. "Come on, let's go get this treated," Jinyoung proposed in a weary tone.

As they moved away, Jaebum didn't follow immediately(he knew Jackson would make him wait) but heard Youngjae ask the same question he'd been wondering.

"Hyung," the boy asked of Mark, "how do you know he wouldn't have hit you again?"

"I just know. You know it too." he replied, words Jaebum barely caught as they got farther away.  
After a few minutes they were far enough distant that Jackson felt secure in shoving Jaebum's shoulder, urging him forward. "Let's go, idiot, all your stupidity today is making me tired." The walk back to their dorm felt eternal.

++

Jaebum didn't get much out of Jackson over the next couple days, and between the glares he received from Youngjae in class and Jinyoung giving him disappointed glances, regret started creeping into him at every pore. He'd managed to damage the progress he'd been making friend-wise over the past weeks, and despite the initial satisfaction he'd had in confronting Mark, the aftermath was an unanticipated consequence he wished he'd considered.

 _How did you THINK they would respond to you attacking him, someone they had feelings for?_ He thought, admonishing himself as he trudged through a long shift at work. The truth was he hadn't thought about their feelings at all. Realizing this made him uncomfortably aware that, most likely, he'd never thought about any of their feelings very carefully. He resolved on his bus ride home to talk to Jackson, starting there with remedying his misconduct. A light rain picked up as he rode, and he had to sprint most of the way to their building to attempt staying dry, without much result.

Jackson wasn't in the small living room, so Jaebum knocked lightly on the younger boy's bedroom door. It opened with a jerk, revealing Jackson and a mildly irritated expression on his normally warm features.

"What?" he asked shortly.

Jaebum hesitated, and said, "Can we talk for a minute?"

Jackson huffed. "I'm busy."

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry I'm busy? Or sorry that you're an ass?"

"Uh, that I'm an ass," Jaebum responded sheepishly, struggling with insulting himself but also not able to deny it. He'd definitely been an ass.

Sighing, Jackson held the door open further so his friend could step into the room and take the chair next to his desk, while Jackson moved to sit on his bed. "At least you're acknowledging it now," he mused, looking a tiny bit less angry, and dropping onto his back to stare at the ceiling.

Jaebum didn't respond again for a few minutes, letting the air in the room settle around them while he pondered the other things that had been swirling around his head.

Finally he asked, "Do you...do you still love Mark? Is that why you've been upset with me the past few days? I sort of thought you would be on my side of things, but I don't really feel like I understand anything anymore."

The light from the lamp on Jackson's desk cast a shadow over half his face, making Jaebum think he looked older and more exhausted than usual, and that was saying something since Jackson was typically pretty tired from all his training. But this was another kind of tired, the kind a person gets when life is giving them a lot to handle, when their crush doesn't like them back and their schedule never lets up, and, on top of it all, their closest friend is kind of an ass. Jaebum knows this kind of tired pretty well.

Jackson eventually replied, straightforward as usual. "Part of me is always going to care about him, but I'm not in love with him. Not anymore. After how I treated him I wouldn't deserve to be, and I know there's no chance he'd ever want me the same way, so no." He turned his head, facing Jaebum full on. "I was more upset because I really thought you were making progress. I thought we had started getting you to see more than your own selfish side of things, finally. I used to not care, because I was angry too, and we could just be angry at the world together. And then you weren't angry, because there was Youngjae, and I thought maybe you'd healed a little, but then that blew up...It's like a roller coaster with you, I'm never sure when you're going to take a drop."

"I'm sorry."

"I know, Jae." Jackson paused. "What was it, anyway? Did you make him bleed just because, or did he say something?"

Jaebum hummed, recalling the short, heated conversation as calmly as he could, then relating it to Jackson. It sounded embarrassing, being honest about the details, and the shorter blonde boy cringed at the "delusional" and "coward" bits, but remained quiet until the end, listening thoughtfully. When Jaebum finished, catching up to when the others arrived and knew the details from there, Jackson sat up and pushed himself to the end of the bed, sitting facing Jaebum.

"I kind of can't believe I'm saying this, but you need to talk to Mark again."

"What? Why?"

"Well you kind of mauled his face before he actually had the chance to really say anything, so I think you owe him the chance to explain without your fist interrupting. And if he was so willing to show up like that, with no hesitation, _I'd_ be willing to bet he has something to say that's worth hearing."

Red filled Jaebum's face, a hundred angry responses flooding his mouth and ready to pour out. Jackson put a hand on his knee.

"Im Jaebum. For once in your miserable life, forget about all your preconceived notions and go listen to someone else's side of the story, would you?"

\--

Still not quite sure how Jackson had convinced him, the next morning Jaebum found himself standing outside the house that Jinyoung, Youngjae and Mark rented along with a few other people. He understood why Mark had been able to meet him so quickly; the address was practically a stone's throw from the footpath where that conversation took place, a quick jog for someone who was in a hurry.

He stared up at the door, trying with all his mental energy to lift a hand and knock. Was he ready for this? Could he even stay calm enough? Was anyone even home? He hadn't called or texted Mark to check, afraid he'd bail at the last minute or that Mark would purposefully avoid him. But what if Youngjae was home?

In the midst of this tornado of questions, the door suddenly swung open, nearly hitting Jaebum in the face. He half-jumped back, meeting the gaze of Mark Tuan in similar amounts of shock. Jaebum quickly noticed the fading bruise on the other boy's face, now a dusty plum color that oddly complemented the wide-collared, black long sleeve he was wearing over his typical torn jeans. A weird, annoying thought popped briefly into Jaebum's brain, that someone could manage to make a bruise look sort of delicate and fashionable.

Mark pushed past him to open the mailbox, a rusty thing attached to the wall near the door, and pull out a stack of envelopes. "Jinyoung and Youngjae are out at Youngjae's piano lesson. So you'll have to-"

"I'm here to see you."

The brunette paused, mid-step back in the door-frame. He turned toward Jaebum. "Are you going to punch me again?"

"No. I was going to....listen."

Mark regarded him with mild surprise. "Come on in," he finally said. Jaebum followed him into the hallway, glancing into the living room to the side. It looked more or less the way he'd expect a house full of guys would, not quite clean, but with clear signs that Jinyoung had a voice in maintaining some standard of living. In the corner, a tiny white dog was sleeping curled on a little bed. Jaebum thought he recalled something about Mark having a dog. Mark led him into the kitchen where he grabbed a kettle off the stove and started to fill it with water, simultaneously clicking on the gas to light a burner. It briefly occurred to Jaebum that the guy must be pretty confident of his own safety around him, if he was comfortable bringing a live flame into the environment. _"How do you know he won't hit you again?" "I just know. You do too."_ Jaebum shook the memory out of his head.

"Tea?" Mark asked, pausing as he reached into a cabinet that contained a large array of flavors. Jaebum bet most of them were Jinyoung and Youngjae's.

"Uh, sure," he hesitated slightly, "and sorry."

"It's fine, I was about to make myself a cup anyway when you showed up."

Jaebum shook his head. "No, I mean I'm sorry about the other night. For hitting you, and uh...all that."

"I knew what you meant."

Silence crept into the room around them, heavily filling all the space Jaebum and Mark couldn't themselves take up, broken only by the slowly growing gurgles of the kettle and the background music that was a gentle Autumn breeze brushing through a sleepy college campus. Jaebum had taken a seat at the tiny breakfast bar, leaning his elbows there and staring pointedly at his clasped hands as if they could tell him what to do with himself. He didn't see Mark's persistent gaze on him from where the boy leaned back against the sink, constant and unreadable, but he could feel it, like Mark was waiting on him to begin. Jaebum wished he knew how to start this kind of conversation, the kind someone like him avoided on principle, the kind that had the potential to hurt. But he didn't, a fact that he was pondering deeply when the shrill whistle suddenly erupting from the kettle nearly scared him out of his skin. Mark released a brief, high-pitched laugh at Jaebum's fright as he turned off the heat, a sound that also shocked Jaebum. Had he ever heard the boy laugh?

A mug came to rest on the counter in front of his hands, some mysterious mixture of dried leaves slowly absorbing the hot water and releasing color back into it. It was strangely calming.

"So, what did you think you'd listen about?" Mark asked, picking up his own mug and blowing lightly over it, calm gaze regarding Jaebum directly.

Jaebum lifted the teabag a little, dunking it a few times to speed up the steeping. "I'm not sure, I just know Jackson wouldn't let me alone until I talked to you. So I guess just...explain things maybe? Make me understand why I shouldn't hate you."

"That's a tall task, knowing you."

"You _don't_ know me."

"Not for lack of trying," Mark replied lightly, but shocking Jaebum for probably the third time in the fifteen or so minutes he'd been in that kitchen.

"What-"

Mark interrupted him, taking the conversation into his own, slim hands. "Let's just start with Youngjae, then, so maybe you can drop the urge to beat me up more. I said I don't have him, and I don't. He's not into me, and I'm not into him, and I don't ever think either of us will be. What we _are_ is good friends, and roommates now. It’s a good thing there was an open room in this house, considering how his previous living plans got ruined."

Jaebum's eyes widened, and he turned them back to the darkening liquid in his mug. Right, of course Youngjae would have planned to live with him, before it all got ruined right before his first year at college. Before Jaebum clearly ruined everything with his blind jealousy, something he was starting to recognize.

"What about Jinyoung? Are you two-"

This was entering on what was obviously not a comfortable topic for Mark, who's eyes immediately closed as he sighed deeply, a light crease appearing on his brow. "We're not. He's really kind to me, you know, after everything. He didn't have to come back, but he did, and he made me recognize what I'd done to him. Forgave me, although I don't know at what point I'll be able to forgive myself..." he trailed off, swirling his tea and gripping the mug tightly. "But I am sorry to you, too, because I didn't mean to put space between the two of you, but I was really low then, and Jinyoungie's attention is like-"

"Yeah. I'm aware."

The two shared a look, briefly, before Jaebum broke it to finally sip at his slightly-cooled tea, wondering how he'd come to the point where he could relate to something with _Mark Tuan_.

"Right. I needed that gentleness, but...I took advantage of it. I'm sorry."

They drank in silence again for a while, the morning light filtering in through the window over Mark's shoulder and flickering little brights and shadows on the counter as the leaves on the tree outside fluttered in the breeze. It was such a different atmosphere from their last encounter, somehow making Jaebum feel small inside his blue hoodie. He was frightened to feel his anger slowly melting away, very slowly, but nonetheless changing for the first time in so many years. His skin felt all wrong and he was having a hard time even looking at the boy in front of him, who oddly was _not_ eliciting rage anymore.

"Anyway, then Jackson-"

"Made his own choices," Jaebum finished, taking a turn at cutting Mark's sentence off mid-way. "He told me about it. And it was my fault too, for just being...being a coward..." he swallowed painfully on the word, "and not even trying to stay close with him. He said that you tried to give me openings too, but he didn't want it. So I know. But um, why were you doing that?"

Mark set his mug down, pulling his hands through his hair before stuffing them deep in his pockets. If Jaebum wasn't mistaken, the boy was blushing just a little.

"Well I did think he should give you a chance, for one. But also...you know that very first day when I walked in? You were the first two people I saw." He took a breath, eyes far away like he was looking back in time. "There was Jackson, the friendliest and most welcoming person I'd ever seen in my life, and there was you. Kind of intimidating honestly when you looked at me, but the looks you gave Jackson...I thought, I want friends like that. I wanted to be friends with you, _both_ of you. I didn't expect you to just cut away like that right from the start, like my very existence offended you. I thought if Jackson brought you back, maybe you'd open up."

Jaebum felt sick. His longest held beliefs now turned to dust, he could see a new perspective to the moments when Jackson had spoken to him, Mark hovering close behind. Not greedily trying to keep Jackson to himself, but in Jaebum's memory instead looking nervous and uncertain, hoping to be accepted.

Mark cleared his throat. "I know you've always thought that I just took people away from you, and honestly I don't blame you for it anymore. I was just alone here, and it happened that you picked the best people in the world as friends, willing to be kind to a strange new kid. I didn't exactly choose them all on purpose, but I also thought that if we had the same friends, eventually you'd have to come around too. I was pretty wrong about that."

A weird laugh slipped out of Jaebum at the thought. "Yeah, you really were."

"But then again...you're here now."

Their gazes met again, Mark looking eerily serious, and Jaebum wondering how many times in one morning he could feel shocked like this. One more at least, it seemed, as another slightly terrifying thought occurred to him.

"Did you...were you always just trying to be my friend? Just that?"

Mark didn't say anything, but something in his face told Jaebum the answer anyway.

"Even though I was so mean to you? Even though people like Jackson and Jinyoung were right there?"

He shrugged, but his face was full of color as he softly replied, "You don't always get to choose that, whether or not it makes sense."

Jaebum stood suddenly, the chair scraping loudly as he stumbled dizzily out of the room. It was one too many revelations for him to handle on a sunny, pleasant Saturday morning. He'd come to clear up some misunderstandings, not to be halfway confessed to by his lifelong enemy.

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're thinking to yourself...what is the timeline here, so vague??? don't worry  
> I am also wondering that  
> idk what it is, I can't keep timelines straight but I tried ok? i tried as best I could
> 
> uh YES there are more chapters so...this weird cliffhanger isn't The End


	2. Revelation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please take note that this gets a bit...heavy at some points. Like emotionally murky. If that's hard for you, please proceed with caution.

Walking into a new high school in a new, foreign country was high on the list of things Mark considered his personal hells, or cruel and unusual torture at the very least. Everything was strange and uncomfortable; Korean high school didn't look anything like American high school, didn't function anything like it, and had very few points of similarity for him to grasp on to. His two year of schooling back in the States before his family up and moved to Korea were essentially useless as a reference point, especially once he learned he was being held back a full year. He had almost laughed; of course a shitty California public school wouldn't compare to the semi-private Korean academy. He wondered how his parents had even gotten him admitted.

The morning of his first day felt endless: and that was  _ before _ he was even allowed into his homeroom class. The blur of faces and papers and a language he only loosely understood gave him a headache and had his introverted self worn out by the time they approached the room, which housed  what would be his class for the foreseeable future. He was out of energy already, and the thought of meeting and being confronted with his peers(of a sort, since he would be older after all) made him want to find the darkest corner he could and never leave it. 

But maybe he thought that a moment too soon. 

In a room that should have been as dull as any other classroom, Mark was met with a blinding light. It came in two forms: one, a boy with white-blonde hair and puppy eyes, grinning at Mark like he'd just won the lottery, and two, in a second boy with dark hair and ear piercings, and the disapproving stare of one who already had everything he needed and damned the rest. But when that one turned his gaze on the blonde, the pretense dropped like a stone through a void, his expression becoming warm and soft, and downright beautiful. As the teacher introduced Mark, the blonde somehow turned up the wattage of his smile and even winked at him, while the dark-haired boy gave him a wary glance. 

Mark felt hopeful for the first time in days, for the first time since moving. He'd never been the best at making friends, but he'd be damned if he missed out on these two. He spent the day alternating between trying to comprehend  _ something _ of what the teacher was saying, and simply staring at them. The fond, almost intimate way they interacted throughout class only confirmed Mark's desire, no his  _ need _ , to know them better, to beg them to let him into their circle, to be on the receiving end of that incredible smile daily and get the intimidating one to warm up to him. The day passed quickly from then on, and he even made a pleasant acquaintance with the rather quiet boy in the chair next to the open seat he'd taken. Jinyoung was his name, Mark remembered.

The next morning, Mark put the plan he'd spent all night conceiving into action. It seemed that seats had no real assignment after all, and the blonde was already sitting in the front row when Mark walked into the room. Gathering all his courage, heart racing, Mark stopped in front of that desk. 

"Can I sit there?" He asked, pointing to the next seat. The blonde looked up with that same brilliant smile and nodded enthusiastically. 

"Go ahead!" Mark took the seat, and the blonde turned to him immediately."You're Mark, right? I'm Jackson. I'm not Korean either! Your Korean is pretty bad, huh? Do you speak English then?" 

Jackson spoke at the speed of light, and his last sentence came out in English, confusing Mark with the code switch. He blinked, smiling but confused. "What?"

Jackson laughed, a delightful ringing sound that radiated pure joy. "I asked if you speak better English," he repeated in that language, his accent heavy but the words familiar to Mark. 

"Yeah, I do," he replied, following suit. 

Mark learned quickly that it was not hard to become Jackson's friend. He'd been next to him for under ten minutes, and the boy had said more words than Mark typically emitted in a week. It was better than he could have imagined, thinking he'd have to work so much harder and exert far more energy to befriend the boy, and his friend who had yet to arrive that morning. 

When Jackson finally took a break to breathe, Mark dared ask about him. "Where is your friend, the one in this seat yesterday?" 

Jackson shrugged, "Oh Jaebum-hyung? He's late sometimes. He'll be here eventually. So where in America did you come from? Why did you move here?"

As Mark continued to try and answer Jackson's rapid-fire questions and more students arrived, finally the door opened at the hand of the ear-pierced, piercing-stared boy Mark had been waiting on. In Mark's imagination, Jaebum would look a little surprised, but then soften at Jackson's enthusiasm. He'd sit on either side of the two of them, and introduce himself. He'd be sort of reserved, and Mark would be shyer around him, but Jackson would take care of that shortly before they became an inseparable trio. He could envision it clearly, and looked at Jaebum with expectancy for him to follow the script playing out in his head.

Jaebum returned a blank stare, which slowly morphed into irritation mixed with disbelief. His gaze moved between Mark and Jackson a few times within the moment it took him to assess things, and then he simply adjusted his bag on his shoulder and walked right past them, making no more eye contact. 

Mark was stunned. He looked to Jackson, who hadn't even paused in speaking, who hadn't even seemed to notice. Somehow he'd made a bad impression on Jaebum without even meeting him properly, and he needed Jackson to fix it right away.

"Is Jaebum ok?" He interrupted to ask.

Jackson's head whipped around till he located his friend, who had taken the same empty seat Mark had the day before, next to Jinyoung. "He's here? Oh, weird, he usually sits by me. He gets moody sometimes though, maybe he had a bad morning. He'll tell me later, I'm sure." Jackson confidently asserted, clearly not bothered by the coldness Jaebum was radiating. Mark chewed his lip, nervous and not sure why. 

Over the course of the next week, Mark continued to wonder at what he could have possibly done wrong. Jaebum didn't approach them, only shot them glares on occasion, no matter how Mark tried to appear open and approachable. 

It took him longer to realize the issue, finally clicking after too long of Jaebum giving Jackson angry, mournful looks and Jackson's off-hand comments on their friendship. 

Jaebum was clearly in love with Jackson, and that one didn't even know. Mark wanted to tear his hair out for not seeing it from the first moment, when he would have approached more carefully, made sure not to intrude on something just starting to happen. But he'd messed up, and Jackson had been so welcoming, and continued to demand lots of Mark's time. But Mark had to fix it, he'd already made up his mind.  

He started bringing Jaebum up whenever he could in conversation with Jackson, feeling out where things stood and trying to get Jackson to include the other boy. At first the blonde didn't seem to think strongly about it, replying off-handedly that he'd mention whatever plan to Jaebum. Mark wasn't sure he ever did, though, the handful of times that the other two spoke looked stilted and uncomfortable. The more he brought it up, the more he started to realize it was annoying Jackson, which seemed highly unfair. He firmly believed that a person with feelings ought to be given a chance to express them. 

He said this to Jackson, who stopped short and looked at him hard. 

"Good to know," the blonde replied. Mark didn't know what to make of that, but soon found out. 

It was during the couple months of the paired project, something Mark was grateful for Jackson's help with as his grasp on Korean and the school work was just starting to solidify. But it was an increased period of Jackson-heavy time, where Mark saw little of anyone else, just barely aware that Jaebum was working with Jinyoung and there wasn't much opening to continue Mark's quest of reaching him. 

He was working at a coffee shop with Jackson late into one evening, constructing some of the more detailed parts of their project, when Jackson unceremoniously closed the notebook they were working from and pushed it aside. Mark cast a confused glance.

"Why?" He asked, knowing he didn't have to spell things out for Jackson to catch his meaning.

The blonde stirred the spoon in his green tea pointlessly, as it contained no additive to the tea, his leg bouncing ceaselessly under the table as he chewed on his lip. Mark sighed, exasperated. Lately Jackson had been acting strangely, sometimes starting to speak and stopping suddenly, or taking hold of Mark's hand only to drop it again like it was on fire. This evening particularly, Jackson had been suspiciously quiet and nervous.

"Jackson,  _ what _ ?" 

"People should get to say how they feel, right? You said that." 

"Yeah," Mark replied, suddenly hopeful, thinking Jackson was finally realizing he needed to hear Jaebum out.

Instead, Jackson laid his hand gently over Mark's where it rested on his notes. Tingles ran up Mark's arm, into his shoulder, down over his chest to stop and swarm uncomfortably at the top of his stomach.  _ Wait, no, I didn't mean- _

"Well I like  _ you _ . I just didn't know when was a good time to say it. But then I thought, what does it matter? There's probably never going to be a good time, and we're together practically every minute anyway. I might as well say it anytime. Well, maybe not in the middle of class. That's why I wanted to work here tonight, not in a study room. This seemed better. I just don't want to wait anymore and wonder about it, or hang out when there's the possibility we could be  _ making _ out, and I just need to know what you think." Jackson finally stopped rambling, and instead held his breath.

Mark blinked a few times. That made sense of the weirdness lately. He'd admit that Jackson was an attractive person, soft but strong and of course that smile...but he loved their chemistry as friends, even relied on it. It hadn't occurred to him to like Jackson, and beside there was still the question of-

"What about Jaebum?"

This was, Mark realized too late, absolutely the wrong thing to ask. 

The parade of emotions that passed over Jackson's face before he settled on furious, Mark probably couldn't even accurately identify them all. Confusion he recognized, and hurt, but the rest were a complicated war of expressions he couldn't comprehend. 

"What about him?!?"

Mark swallowed the growing lump in his throat, knowing he was probably digging the hole deeper even as he spoke. "I just think..I think he cares about you, and has for a while so, shouldn't you hear him out as well?"

"You're kidding me right now!"

"No, seriously Jackson I think he's liked you since I met you-"

Jackson pressed his palms into his eyes, rubbing furiously and tugging at his hair. "What does it matter now? I don't like him, I like  _ you- _ "

"I know, but-"

"But what!? This isn't about him!!" As Jackson got angrier, and therefore louder, the other coffee shop patrons started giving them annoyed looks, and Mark silently begged him to quiet down. He opted for a low hiss, squeezing his fists to white knuckles on the table. "I don't get it. If you don't like me back, just say so. Why bring Jaebum into this? You're always doing this! You can't act all cute and flirty when you're with me and then keep turning around and asking for him!"

_ Flirty?  _ "I just wanted to be friends with you both-"

"Well that sucks, because right now I don't feel like being friends with you!" 

Mark rocked back in his chair, a chill racing down his spine and his arms going limp.  _ No... _

Jackson began packing up his things, roughly shoving them into his satchel without much care. Mark struggled uselessly to stop him, trying to keep things on the table only for Jackson to snatch them out of his hands and glare at him. 

"Jackson, please, I'm sorry this isn't-"

He growled, shoving the last pen into his bag. "Isn't what? How you usually treat your friends? How you respond to someone confessing to you? Or maybe that's why you left America. Did they get tired of your inconsistent shit there too? You know I thought we were really close, and I've basically shared everything with you, but I don't think I actually understand you at all." 

Mouth snapping shut, Mark positively sagged, already feeling the hot sting of tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. "Jackson..."

"Whatever, Mark. I'm done with this." And Jackson left. Mark couldn't move for at least an hour, until the shop owner gently reminded him that they needed to close up, and he had to drag himself home in a disbelieving fog, wishing desperately that he could cry but mostly feeling numb. He hardly slept, instead only passing out from exhaustion for a few minutes at a time, but waking up constantly to the relentless chest pain that had appeared suddenly. He briefly wondered if he was having a heart attack, but knew subconsciously that it was just the pain of stupidly losing his only friend.

In the morning, Mark hesitated outside the classroom door, knowing Jackson would be inside after his early morning fencing practice. He prepared himself to beg, to grovel and swear oaths, whatever he had to do to get that friendship restored. Mustering all his courage, he entered the room to find Jackson talking happily with a girl in their class, Youngji, and looking completely normal. Mark paused by the desk, waiting for Jackson to notice him, but the boy didn't look his way.

"Jackson-ah..."

He continued talking with Youngji. Mark's hands began to shake.

"Hey...Jackson.."

Still nothing. Mark could feel how desperate his face looked. Youngji had noticed too, and looked uncomfortable. She interrupted Jackson's rant about fencing mats, pointing out that Mark wanted his attention. Jackson shrugged, not even turning to Mark then.

"Whatever," he said, "I have nothing to say to him."

Mark felt like a glass pane that had been cracked, the fracture spreading and creating a spiderweb of tiny weak points that could shatter at any moment, increasing with every rejection. He had no idea how to hold himself together, but it wasn't going to be in that room. Turning, trying not to stumble as he went, Mark tried to escape back out the door. The moment it opened he crashed directly into another person. 

"Whoa, Mark-hyung, slow down," Jinyoung's deep, gentle voice requested, paired with a lighthearted laugh. Mark looked up, already too compromised to keep his face free of emotion. Jinyoung's expression shifted instantly to concern. "Are you okay?"

The glass shattered.

Tears spilled from Mark's sleep-deprived eyes unceasingly, starting with a dramatic gasp and subsequent loss of breath that caught the attention of the classroom behind them. Jinyoung, quick-thinking and considerate as he was, had the presence of mind to slide the door shut and guide Mark out of the flow of traffic before bringing him into a hug. Mark didn't know Jinyoung well, but he'd always gotten kind vibes from him, and it was proven then by his almost mother-like actions. Desperate for any support, Mark buried himself in the other boy's jacket. 

"Shh, it's alright, what's going on? Okay, shh...just breathe," Jinyoung murmured, reassuringly rubbing Mark's back as he spoke. When Mark finally quieted enough, and the hallway had cleared a little, he pulled back and eyed the large splotch gracing Jinyoung's shirt. 

He rubbed his eyes furiously. "I'm sorry," he croaked, voice raw. Jinyoung shook his head.

"It's fine. Do you want to talk about it?"'

Mark wasn't sure, bit his lip.

Jinyoung's brow furrowed. "Hmm, okay. Well going in there doesn't seem like a good idea, let's find somewhere else to be."

"You shouldn't skip class," Mark argued.

"It's fine. Come on." He took Mark's hand. 

\--

Mark relied on Jinyoung immediately. There just wasn't another option, and as options went Jinyoung was a pretty fantastic one. Warm, intuitive, deeply caring and handsome on top of it all, Mark couldn't have stumbled into a better person if he'd been trying, and he hadn't. He'd managed to accidentally make just the friend he needed on  _ just  _ the day he needed him, and he was hanging on for dear life. He still felt horrible almost always, especially at school where his two failures at friendship were constantly before him, but when just with Jinyoung things were quiet and calm. He'd talk to Mark or be silent with him, he'd share about his day, he never pressured Mark to talk more than he wanted to, and he was always prepared to just sit and watch a movie, close and comfortable like the friendship Mark had been looking for. 

On days when something tipped Mark a little too much the wrong way, Jinyoung would hold Mark's hand, or hold  _ him  _ entirely, soothing and perfect and understanding. 

What Mark didn't do was ever, at any time, bring up Jaebum.

He knew Jinyoung had been working on the project with him, and he didn't know if they were friends. But he was absolutely, positively not going to ask, not going to risk another mistake and another friend. 

Then came the day everything went off the deep end again, just in the other direction. 

As Mark was leaving a late extra study he had since being behind, and heading to meet up with Jinyoung, he encountered a confusing sight in the school courtyard. Walking amicably together were the very two people he'd tried to reunite and failed: Jackson and Jaebum, laughing and carrying on while Jackson related something in enthusiastic detail. 

Mark couldn't help being shocked. After everything he went through, they were friends again, only  _ without him.  _ A tiny, minuscule part of him was glad that they hadn't been permanently ruined, but the greater part of him was insanely jealous, hurt and broken all over again. 

He practically sprinted to Jinyoung's house, grateful that the other boy's parents were working late and he didn't have to encounter anyone else before dissolving into his friend in a state of complete breakdown. As they sat in Jinyoung's bed, Mark huddled in his arms and mentally went through all the things he knew. 

_ Jackson and Jaebum were friends again. _

_ Jaebum disliked Mark from the beginning. _

_ Jackson disliked Mark now, since their falling out. _

_ Any dislike would be amplified between the two of them. _

_ All hope of being accepted by them was now lost. _

It felt like such a trivial thing to be distraught over, but Mark had never been able to let go of that first moment of beautiful, glorious hope they'd represented for him. His ultimate quest in a new country, that, if he could achieve it, meant everything would be okay. 

But everything was not okay, as he cried into Jinyoung's shirt, until that one finally forced him to look up and meet his gaze. 

"Mark, please, what happened?"

He couldn't answer it, instead wiping his hoodie sleeve over his face and turning back to his friend. Jinyoung seemed to be searching his face for something, looking everywhere from Mark's eyes to his hair to his mouth. The younger lifted a hand and gently caressed Mark's cheek, wiping away a few tears he'd missed. With Mark already collected in Jinyoung's lap the way he was, it was no difficulty for Jinyoung to simply lean forward and capture the older boys lips in a soft kiss. He didn't hold it for long, didn't press, just let the barest whisper of his lips rest on Mark's more chapped ones. 

_ Oh.  _ Mark's mind raced in the few seconds it lasted.  _ He wouldn't do that if....if he didn't....so he must... _

The surprise must have shown on Mark's face as they separated, Jinyoung's light blush fading and slowly being replaced by concern and signs of dejection. Mark panicked internally. It wasn't a verbal confession, but if Jinyoung was expressing to him now the same thing Jackson had....

Mark practically lurched forward, fists curling into Jinyoung's shirt as he crashed his lips desperately against the other's once again. He didn't have tons of experience with kissing, or much else, but if responding positively to Jinyoung would keep him there, he'd give it all he had. It wasn't difficult to ease Jinyoung back onto the bed and hover his thin body over the other's slightly curvier one, slide his cold fingers up into Jinyoung's thick, dark hair and meld closer to him. Despite Mark's panic, it was actually soothing, and when Jinyoung's hands gently came to rest on his waist he felt a surge of relief. Then Jinyoung did this  _ thing _ with his lips, and Mark's thoughts dissolved unexpectedly into a gooey haze of physical pleasure. He let them.

\--

Though it weirded him out a little, Mark didn't protest when people started assuming he and Jinyoung were a couple. The making out thing did happen a lot, and Jinyoung held his hand way more often, and they spent nearly 100% of their time together. But something held him back from actually confirming it, even when Jinyoung asked him directly. He just smiled and wide as he could, kissed him as deeply as he knew how, and hoped that was enough of an answer not to scare him away. 

But he still got sad seeing the other two at school together, and then angry at himself for feeling sad, and then forced himself to pretend to be bright and happy because it was all so stupid.  Why  _ couldn't  _ he be satisfied with the honest positives in his life? Why was he literally jealous of them all the time? Never able to fully pull his eyes away and just live his own life...

He fought with himself over it constantly, even when pressed into his own bed by the weight of Jinyoung on top of him, even with those admittedly other-worldly lips leaving possessive splotches on his neck and collarbones, even still when Jinyoung's talented fingers slipped up under his shirt or down under his waistband...

"Mm, ahh Jae-" Mark started, his brain hazy but then snapping into focus as he choked on the word about to come out of his mouth. 

Jinyoung had started taking the lead, hinting at going farther than they had yet to go, but paused to give Mark a dizzy, confused look. "What did you say, baby?"

It was a little weird that he called him that sometimes, with Mark being older. But as usual he didn't argue it, especially considering what he'd been about to say. He shocked himself, realizing what it was. Not Jinyoung's name, but  _ Jaebum.  _

_ What the hell?  _ **_What the hell?!_ **

Mark backpedaled. " _ Jinyoungie _ , don't stop," he breathed, lowering his voice in what he hoped was a seductive tone, and pressing down on Jinyoung's backside to mold their hips even closer together. He moaned softly at the increased contact, neck arching back, and Jinyoung's eyelids dropped to half-mast. "You're so, ahh-so good, so good to me, Jinyoungie." Jinyoung didn't stop again.

\--

Mark didn't forget what he'd almost said. He thought about it more and more, realizing that wasn't the first time he'd almost made that mistake, or the first time he'd thought about the other boy that way. It made no sense that the irritable boy who only ever scowled at Mark, if he looked at him at all, who had never shown anything but distaste, should show up in Mark's mind when laid out beneath his supposed boyfriend. The boyfriend who was in essence everything to Mark, and whose astounding good looks and sweet disposition ought to be more than enough to hold Mark's attention. 

Riddled with confusion and regret, the older boy only clung tighter, trapping himself in a cycle that produced more and more self-dislike. 

One person alleviated that a little. It was hard to completely dislike himself and his choices when a boy full of sunshine looked up to Mark. And Youngjae did, for some reason. Mark also marveled at how the boy wiggled his way right into Jackson and Jaebum's friendship, playing on both sides of the fence with perfect ease and constant good vibes. He'd stopped trying to do that himself, but eagerly accepted Youngjae's attention any time he hung around, laughing and talking and generally being a delight. When Youngjae started showing hints of interest in Jaebum, Mark couldn't even be upset with him; he didn't know what his own feelings were after all, and he couldn't hold anything against the nicest person he'd ever met. He was a little amazed when it actually happened, but Jinyoung was still with him, and he couldn't deny how happy Youngjae was. And how happy Jaebum looked, because for some reason he cared about that. 

College was supposed to change things for Mark. He was pretty confident with the language now, not so nervous and quiet all the time. He was going to study what interested him, and Jinyoung got into the same school, and they were going to live together. He'd finally escape the daily, self-inflicted torment of high school.

Mark was wrong. One his first day he noticed a flash of blonde hair and heard a sharp, loud laugh across the courtyard. He couldn't see Jackson, but felt certain it was him. His nerves were already set on edge due to that, so when he walked into his first business class to see Jaebum already sitting at a back desk, he nearly dropped his coffee. It was essentially a twisted reversal of the first time he'd seen the boy, the universe playing some kind of sick joke. It was the kind of sick joke that kept building on itself, apparently, as Mark found he had nearly every class, and ultimately the same major AND minor as Jaebum, who didn't look altogether any more pleased about it than Mark was. So nothing changed, just continued.

\--

The air outside was bitingly cold, one night near the end of first semester when Mark came back from his study session. Term finals were in the next few days and he'd had to buckle down at the books hard. Mark shuffled into his and Jinyoung's dorm and shut the door tightly behind himself. Immediately he noticed a weird vibe in the small space, a chill not due to the weather. He set down the dinner he'd picked up for them both on his way home and sought out Jinyoung, finding him not in his own room but in Mark's curiously instead. He was sitting on the bed next to a small pile of Mark's clothes, hands folded in his lap and staring at the floor. 

"Jinyoungie, what's up?" Mark asked as he slid out of his coat, tossing it on the chair and reaching for the other boy. His hand made no contact, as Jinyoung leaned away from him. Mark's stomach dropped.

When he looked up, the younger boy's eyes were already glassy. "Hyung," his voice wavered slightly on the word, "I have something to tell you. I'm not going to be here next semester."

Mark stared, unable to ask his questions. 

"I'm going to Paris to study abroad for a while, I can do a lot of my art history classes there and go around Europe as well."

Something else seemed to be going on, though, Mark knew or Jinyoung wouldn't be telling him with so little excitement. How had he made this big decision without ever asking Mark anyway? Just now telling him when they had less than two weeks remaining in the current semester? He stood by the door, awkwardly wringing his hands in concern. A memory from a few weeks earlier played back in Mark's head like the pensieve from Harry Potter:

_ Jinyoung wrapped himself tighter around Mark, cuddling warmly as the nights had taken a turn for cooler weather. Though they had separate space, he would often find his way to Mark's bed on these kind of nights, for warmth or for more. Mark thought he would just sleep tonight, but Jinyoung had shifted and started placing delicate, purposeful kisses on his neck, murmuring soft things as he went.  _

_ "Hyung," he whispered in that low, sultry voice, "you love me right? Say that you love me." His breath tickled Mark's skin, making him shiver.  _

_ "I care about you more than anyone in the world, Jinyoungie," he whispered back, body starting to warm to his touches, "you know that." _

_ Jinyoung stopped, a disappointed sigh the last thing to brush against Mark's skin before he pulled back and turned away from him in the dark. "That isn't the same." _

_ It bothered Mark, but he was too exhausted to question it, and simply drifted off to sleep, feeling a little colder. In the morning he figured Jinyoung must have wanted to head to class early, because when Mark awoke he was alone.  _

"Jinyoung-ah," Mark asked, a numb feeling starting to creep through his veins, "if this is because of that time a few weeks ago, I-"

"I just have to go do this, okay? I've been thinking about it for a while now., the program application was in October."

_ Back in October??  _ "Don't-" Mark suddenly noticed that the pile of clothes on his bed wasn't just stuff he'd left lying around, but the things Jinyoung had taken from him over time. Hoodies and a couple shirts, a pair of sweatpants, a tie. He was giving them back. Panic set in. "Don't just go because of me, I know I'm not-"

Jinyoung stood up. "I've already made the decision, Mark, I leave after the holidays. I'm sorry." He moved to leave the room, but Mark caught his arm in one shaking hand.

"Please, Jinyoungie! You  _ know  _ I lov-"

" _ Don't!  _ Don't...say that, unless you really, truly mean it." 

Their eyes locked for the few moments Mark tried to fight the words out, seeing in Jinyoung's expression how he was begging him for it if it was true. But no matter how he tried, knowing it was his last resort, Mark couldn't say it. Jinyoung finally looked away, a few tears slipping out of his eyes as he eased his arm out of Mark's grasp and left the room. They didn't see much of each other over the final weeks, and when the semester ended Jinyoung was gone. 

\--

In the second semester, Mark considered a lot of things. He considered whether something must be inherently wrong with him to have ended up this way. He considered why it seemed that the universe had it out for him, setting him on a course to destroy any relationship he managed to have no matter how he tried to avoid it. He considered dropping out of school, transferring to another school, moving back to America, or scouring Europe till he found Jinyoung and could beg forgiveness. He considered the fact that he was probably, no  _ definitely,  _ depressed, and whether he should seek help. He considered that, and more permanent options to rid himself of the pain, or the world of himself. 

Two things kept this from happening: one was the appearance of a small, unhealthy ball of cotton fluff that Mark often passed on his walk between classes, a tiny dog that was trying to live under the front stairs of the food hall. On a particularly chilly, windy February morning, Mark couldn't take seeing the little thing quaking in the bushes any longer, and scooped it up into his sweater. From that day on, the little dog, which he named Coco, filled up some of the sickening emptiness that Jinyoung had left in the dorm. Coco seemed to need Mark, and Mark couldn't have realized how much he needed that little fluff back. 

The second thing was the unexpected reappearance of Youngjae suddenly into his life. 

"Mark-hyung!" The happy shout had startled Mark while he was out walking Coco one afternoon, as he knew almost no one else on campus, save Jaebum and Jackson who certainly weren't going to call out to him. He couldn't have been more pleased to receive the tackling hug from his high school friend, who happily shared the afternoon walking and getting coffee, explaining how he was visiting for the week. He promised to meet Mark again the next day, and the next, until they’d walked Coco all week long. At the end they exchanged numbers and, although it seemed Youngjae was unable to see him much, the lively texting conversation that Youngjae sent at a constant rate kept Mark going for weeks afterward. 

Eventually, Youngjae had some time to actually spend with him, coming up a couple months later for a long spring break visit. Mark knew he was with Jaebum, but he also knew Jaebum worked, since Youngjae was an open book about anything he asked. Mark asked a lot of questions about Jaebum, and learned a lot of things he'd never known. It made him steal a lot more glances in class, where Jaebum seemed always tired and stressed and concentrating hard on his work. 

The week of Youngjae visiting each day seemed to turn the brightness back up in Mark's life. He had someone to joke with again, and Youngjae loved Coco almost as much as Mark did. Mark didn't have to worry about sending Youngjae the wrong message either; they were just themselves, friends without any pressure or concern, carefree. 

Apparently, though, he did send Youngjae the wrong message. Or rather, the wrong text, at the wrong time. 

_ "Are you coming over again today?"  _ Mark typed quickly, wondering if he should wait to walk Coco for when Youngjae might be there. It was the cool, clear kind of morning where a walk would be just right, and especially nice with company. His phone buzzed.

_ "No, he's not. And don't you ever fucking talk to him again. -Jaebum" _

Mark's blood ran ice cold. How could  _ this  _ be one of the first times Jaebum ever spoke directly to him? He tried calling, but no one answered.

His hands started typing back before he even knew what to say.

_ "Jaebum! We're walking my dog!" _

_ "Just friends, I swear!" _

_ "Really there is nothing going on!!!" _

_ "Jaebum!!" _

Mark dropped his phone on the couch, taking to pacing around the dorm with his hands pulling anxiously at his hair. He kept looking at the device, waiting for it to do something, cursing the universe for the millionth time. After what felt like a hundred years and nine heart-attacks, the phone lit up as Youngjae's picture appeared. Mark lunged for the phone, answering before the first ring even finished.

"Jaebum?!?"

A shaky breath answered him. Youngjae.  _ "No he....he went to work. He's not answering my calls or texts." _

Mark wanted to scream. "He knows we we're just hanging out right? Just walking Coco??"

_ "I don't think he saw anything after he sent that to you. All the messages were new when I picked up my phone. He threw it on the floor. The screen is cracked now." _ The hurt in Youngjae's voice made it sound like a cracked screen was the equivalent of a break-up. Maybe it was. Mark could hear him starting to cry softly. 

"Youngjae-ah, what did he say to you? Are you okay?"

_ "He didn't say anything," _ Youngjae replied, a small sob interrupting his words,  _ "he just left. And now he won't respond to me. He really doesn't like you and I don't know why, but I really messed up. He's really, really mad this time, Mark-hyung, I've never seen him so angry." _ Youngjae dissolved into sobs after that, practically inconsolable, with Mark trying to be as soothing as he could from a distance. But Mark knew this was his fault, for thinking the universe was letting him have something simple and good in life, and then ruining part of Youngjae's. So he had to try and fix it.

"Youngjae, send me Jaebum's number. Let me talk to him." Youngjae made a confirming sound, saying he needed to get off the phone and go lie down anyway.

When the numbers appeared, Mark pressed to call immediately, heart pounding in his chest. He'd never spoken to Jaebum directly before, and had to prepare for the worst in a scenario he'd never imagined he'd face. 

The conversation did not go as planned. Nor did Mark's texts, and Mark feared he'd probably only made it worse. 

When Youngjae showed up at his door later that night, eyes red and swollen, still leaking tears, Mark's fears were confirmed.

\--

The rest of Mark's semester and summer were spent trying to be a support to Youngjae, being there at his graduation, calm-excitedly helping him make plans for the upcoming year, finding the house on campus for them to move into. And many times, consoling the younger boy through the moments when the pain of his break-up resurfaced.

He thought about Jaebum a lot. About how the tone of his voice shouting at Mark over the phone sounded, and how he hadn't deleted his number despite being commanded to, and how he sometimes was tempted to call it, but had no idea what he'd say. 

Near the end of the summer Mark got a letter from Jinyoung, a real handwritten one. It said a lot of things that had Mark a weepy mess by the end, but at the bottom was a sincere request to live with him and Youngjae the next semester, when he was coming back. When Mark finished reading, Youngjae quietly handed him his phone, with a number already queued to call. Mark guessed it was Jinyoung's new one, after he'd changed to an international line. 

_ "Mark-hyung, I missed you,"  _ the resonant voice that answered after a few short rings broke Mark down again when he'd just gotten himself together. He knew they'd never go back to what they were before; he'd finally admitted to himself how unfair and hurtful it was, with some help from Youngjae(who wanted to study Psychology, fittingly enough). But knowing Jinyoung was willing to come back and maybe forgive him, hadn't decided to leave him behind forever, was a relief so potent that Mark smiled for days on end. 

The evening he got a phone call from one Im Jaebum nearly blew Mark's mind. He'd been aware, over the first few weeks of the semester, how Jinyoung had begun to reach out to the other boy, and that just then Jinyoung had even talked to Jackson, and generally that something was sort of happening. He just didn't know what. 

Then his phone rang. He tried to sound calm and cool, hoped it came across, and texted Youngjae about this weird new development the moment the call ended. After he'd sprinted to the footpath, it only occurred to him at the last second how weird that looked, and had to force his panting lungs to play along with the casual aura he wanted to display.

It was the weirdest meet up of his life.

"It fits you perfectly; you're delusional. It's kind of a relief, here I was thinking you were just a coward." The second the words left Mark's mouth, he knew they were a bad idea, a continuation of his best talent of saying exactly the wrong thing. Then Jaebum decked him in mouth, which he felt was an appropriate reaction, if one that hurt like fucking hell. 

What he didn't expect was Jaebum to drop menacingly on top of him, hoist him closer by the collar and burn threats into his eyes. Mark's subconscious reaction of grasping his wrist that way was only half-conscious; the half of him that masochistically wanted to hang onto Jaebum now that he'd gotten him, whatever strange form that took. He kept his face passive when the other three arrived and pulled them apart: he'd seen enough in Jaebum's expression to know that they weren't done. 

\--

Having Jaebum sit in his kitchen, awkwardly staring down a cup of tea like it had insulted his mother, was possibly the last scenario of them spending time together that Mark could have imagined. He'd imagined plenty of other scenarios over the years; ones that took place in classrooms or cafeterias, in the park or at the movies, on cold Autumn nights or hot summer days...but never sitting and trying to explain to him why none of those scenarios had ever happened. 

Mark didn't know where to start. He knew how he wanted to talk about it, how he'd like to mention all the times that would've been made better if they'd been a group of friends instead of weird pairs of enemies. But from what Youngjae had told him, it seemed like Jaebum viewed his own life in eras defined by people, three specifically. So Mark walked through it all with him that way, and watched in amazement as the prejudice eased out of Jaebum's broad shoulders and evaporated in the air. 

As they went, it hit Mark like another punch, the revelation that in many ways he and Jaebum had followed the exact same path since the days the paths of their lives first crossed. Pulling and pushing people away, holding too tight or not tight enough. Neither of them knew how to give their love or trust properly; they were both messes, relying on others to be cleaned up. 

Then Jaebum bluntly dropped a question Mark had been asking himself for years.

"Did you...were you always just trying to be my friend? Just that?"

Mark didn't say anything, because he'd learned by this point that he would never say the right thing. He hoped maybe Jaebum could read minds. 

"Even though I was so mean to you? Even though people like Jackson and Jinyoung were right there?" Apparently Jaebum  _ could _ read minds, at least Mark's. 

He shrugged, feeling his face heat up, trying to reply honestly but without threat. "You don't always get to choose that, whether or not it makes sense." 

Jaebum's attempt at escaping the situation didn't surprise Mark, or even hurt his feelings. He was used to these dramatic responses, and anyway Jaebum didn't make it far as Mark heard a jumbled commotion, including some cursing, and stepped into the hall to find Jaebum sitting on the floor, leaning back against the wall supporting stairs and facing into the living room. He was wincing and gripping his knee, and Mark could see one of Coco's toys right where Jaebum must have tripped over it in his haste. Moving slowly into the room opposite, the older boy sat on the edge of the cheap coffee table and looked at Jaebum carefully.

He sighed. "Are you okay? Break anything?"

Jaebum glared up at him, but it was the annoyed and embarrassed kind of glare, not one of hatred like Mark used to get. It was an improvement. "Probably just bruised," he mumbled, "but you should keep better track of your dogs stuff. Murder less guests that way." 

"Sorry." They sat in silence for another minute while Jaebum massaged his knee(and his pride), before Mark spoke up again.

"On Monday...how would you feel about having lunch?"

"Please tell me you're not asking me out right now," Jaebum begged, though Mark could tell he was giving up really fighting anymore. 

Mark laughed, although the thought had occurred to him. Later, maybe. "No, no. I mean if we all did, like us and Jinyoung and Youngjae. Jackson too, if he's not still uncomfortable around me." 

Jaebum hummed. "I don't know, Jackson may not be up for that. Besides, I'm sure Youngjae is still mad at me."

"He doesn't want to be. I"ll talk to him."

"Then I'll mention it to Jackson. He's on better terms with Jinyoung now, it might be fine."

"Ok, thanks. But otherwise, you’re okay with it? Lunch?”

Jaebum took a deep breath, like he was trying to think of a reason to say no, but couldn’t. “I guess.” 

“Then there's just one other thing," Mark replied, earning a questioning look from Jaebum. "Do I still have to delete your number?"

Miraculously, Jaebum smiled.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooooooo...this is really different from the other thing I wrote...except apparently I still ship everyone with...uh everyone


	3. An Uphill Climb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't satisfied so here's like 10000 words to fix the awkward space between Mark's chapter and the epilogue :) :) :) Enjoy the absurd amounts of fluff and such.  
> Also ps...many guest appearances but I'm not gonna tag them as they aren't true characters in this story. ;) ;)

**_Jinyoung_ **

Paris in late Winter was surprisingly similar in temperature to home. Well, not that surprising, because Jinyoung did his research and packed accordingly. The climate didn’t give him any trouble, which was good because he had enough of that inside himself to handle.  He’d been there a week when he realized the mistake he’d potentially made in visiting the city of love while experiencing definite heartbreak.

In February he’d acclimated somewhat, and that was when he met the dancer and the actor. The assignment was this: create a short film, focusing on showing a fluid integration of two different artistic mediums. Paris was full of art; Jinyoung didn’t need to look far to find his material, and it came in an attractive pair.  

The dancer was practicing spins when Jinyoung first walked past the room with the shiny wooden floor, mirrors on the walls and bright lights. There was no music playing; instead, an attractively deep voice was reading out lines of Sartre. This was the actor, taking reprieve from the dark theatre room since  _ The Flies _ was dark enough a play already. 

The dancer was Jimin, and the actor, Taehyung, Jinyoung learned. He’d stood long enough watching that they eventually dragged him inside. Entrancing contemporary and hip-hop styles took up most of Jimin’s repertoire, and Taehyung had an affinity for turning hearts to pools of liquid emotion with his gaze.

“Sure, you can film us,” Taehyung was quick to agree, taking a long pull of his cigarette. He smoked a lot. 

Jimin shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. “I guess. Maybe I can use the film to see where I should improve. What do you want us to do?”

In February and March they filmed twice a week. Jinyoung pointed his camera as Taehyung made lines alive, every word an incarnation of the emotion they agreed on before the camera rolled. In turn, Jimin responded in dance, and so a masterpiece slowly took form. 

While it did, so did friendship. Jinyoung would admit readily that both his new friends were astoundingly attractive; but he often still felt an ache in his heart that couldn’t be easily replaced, not by Taehyung’s fond, boxy smile, nor by Jimin’s soft eyes. One night, lying on the rooftop of the actor’s expensive apartment, having drunk a little too much and collapsed in a heap, Jinyoung told them what his film was really about. Told them why he liked how Taehyung recited his lines with passion and urgency, and how perfect it was that Jimin danced around him and never answered with words. He described a person who used to do the same to him.

He was shocked when Taehyung laughed in amusement. “It sounds a little like you ran away, to me,” he commented, smoke curling from his wide mouth as usual. 

Jimin scolded his friend lightly from where he lay, on the other side of Jinyoung who was between them. The smaller boy rolled to his side to regard him gently, even reaching out to comb his fingers through Jinyoung’s hair and brush it out of his eyes. “Do you think this film will heal you?”

“I think it’s helping, a little.”

“What about when it’s over?” 

Jinyoung bit down on his lip. He’d been dreading that. Soon it would be finished, his time in Paris would end, he’d tour more of Europe, museums and art shows, but then he’d have to go home. He didn’t know if he was ready. 

Jinyoung wasn’t sure about the piece; if it could heal him or not. He couldn’t keep from forming it to exactly the path he’d followed with Mark: directing Taehyung to reach out, asking for answers clearly, and having Jimin dance close only to slip out of the other’s arms and glide even farther away. In the end, it was the actor who decided to leave, after one final, last plea which the dancer fails to return completely. 

Jimin found Jinyoung in the dark editing studio, hunched over the desk and sobbing. The finished product was playing on loop on the screen, achingly beautiful. It was short, maybe twenty minutes long. Jimin held Jinyoung and watched it twice while the other slowly calmed. 

“Maybe this was therapy,” he suggested, rubbing Jinyoung’s back.

Jinyoung inhaled deeply, most of the pain in his chest subsided. “Maybe. I don’t think I ever want to see it again. Once I get the grade back, I’m leaving the copies with you two.”

His project got the highest grade in the history of the class, such that the professor asked if he could submit the film to an exhibition in a few months time. Jinyoung agreed, as long as the man didn't think it would get far beyond the European audience, get anywhere back near him where he’d have to face it again.

When Jinyoung left, he handed Taehyung and Jimin a bag. Inside was a pack of cigarettes, a bottle of the wine they were drinking that night on the roof, and the drive with all the files of his film. “I don’t care what you do with it,” he said.

“Yes you do,” Taehyung replied, reaching over to mess his hair, his fingers free of a cigarette for once. Jimin gave Jinyoung a body-crushing hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

“It was therapy,” he said, making it truth.  

* * *

**_Jackson_ **

He felt uncomfortable. The sight before him was, he thought, something he’d been trying to help make happen for months, and yet it almost made his stomach turn. Change was a long process, and his body didn’t like it.

Youngjae was obviously a little uneasy too. His posture, where he sat at the end of the table, looking constantly back and forth between the two older boys on either side facing one another, was that of a nervous puppy who thinks it’s parents are fighting. 

Jackson huffed. Great, they were all supposed to attempt being friends now. Shouldn’t he be happy about that? He didn’t think he’d feel mad, but he’d also sort of assumed that Mark wouldn’t so easily forgive Jaebum for breaking his face. 

He’d forgotten what Mark was like, and what he’d said about friendship. He should have known. 

A slim, elegant figure approached Jackson, coming to a halt by his side where he adjusted the leather satchel at his hip. Jackson worked to repress the annoyance at Jinyoung for seeming to be the most adjusted of them all. 

“What the fuck am I looking at, here,” he said instead, side-eyeing the art & film major, but referring to the awkward table scene before them. 

“A miracle, I think.”

Jackson laughed, the kind that’s mirthful but only in a dry, sarcastic way. “I feel like it’s partly my doing, so why don’t I like it?”

It was Jinyoung’s turn to cast a glance. “Stop being jealous. Of all of them.”

“ _ You  _ stop being jealous.”

Jinyoung shrugged. “That’s fair.”

They waited a few minutes longer, watching Youngjae nervously fuss, watching Mark and Jaebum behaving with a tentative calm. 

With a sigh, Jackson pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on and straightened his shoulders. “We have to go over there, eventually.” He stated, trying to convince himself by saying it aloud.

“Yep.”

The lunch wasn’t what Jackson would call relaxing. That dynamic had only existed once before, the five of them in one place, and in that instance there had been a lot more tension and at least one more punch thrown. Instead, everyone ate their food, except Youngjae, who kept jumping every time someone moved too quickly. Conversation was reserved mainly to everyone’s classes, which was safe but not especially interesting. When it ended, Mark asked them all to come again the next day, which received mumbled agreement. 

After a week of lunches, Jackson figured out why it bothered him. It just seemed too easy. And he’d yet to actually talk to Mark himself, despite his hypocritical requirement that Jaebum do so.

Finally, he took the uncomfortable initiative to stop Mark after the rest had dispersed from one lunch, stepping in his way. The elder didn’t argue, but instead nodded his head as though Jackson had already spoken.

“It’s alright,” Mark said, beating him to the (verbal) punch.

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Can’t you let me apologize for being a horrible person to you, literally for years?”

“No, I don’t think so. It’s pretty obvious we’ve all been incredibly stupid. I think there’s been enough apologizing.” 

“Is that it? Is that all it takes?”

Mark actually looked a little exasperated, shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jean jacket and slouching a little. “Why are you so bent on it being harder? It’s awkward as shit, we’re all just trying to be civil to start, and I can tell you’re pissed off. Why?”

“I don’t know.” 

“Then, try just letting go.”

* * *

**_Youngjae_ **

When the smoke cleared and all the falling rocks came to a rest, when the first attempts got out of the way and things settled into a bumpy but steady progress, Youngjae started to feel like the world was slowly righting itself.

Right up until he remembered that just because Jaebum wasn’t trying to kill Mark, and Mark wasn’t on the brink of the abyss, didn’t mean he’d resolved his own life. Particularly, his love life. 

Jaebum was everywhere now. With all five of them at relative peace, there almost wasn’t a day he went without seeing Jaebum in some form or another. And he hadn’t been able to touch him; ever since that moment when the older boy had jerked away from him like a cat from water, Youngjae hadn’t felt the courage to reach out a hand. A couple times it had almost happened, but in each instance the younger felt like his skin would burst into flame and had hurriedly diverted his movement. 

He could tell Jaebum noticed, though, and was trying not to look sad about it. 

What scared Youngjae the most was knowing things weren’t the same, even if some things were better. He couldn’t fully get over how quick Jaebum had been to believe he was unfaithful, and how ready he was to throw it all away. He knew the older boy had a fragile heart and weak grasp on trust, but it was a lot for the sunshine boy to undergo. And then, there was Mark. It had gotten slowly clearer to Youngjae, over time, that Mark was interested in Jaebum, probably because of how similar they actually were. And although the idea of someone else liking Jaebum, being with Jaebum, loving Jaebum...didn’t sit well with Youngjae, he couldn’t pretend that he wanted as much as before to be the one in that place. 

The afternoon came when Jaebum asked Youngjae to walk with him to class, then stopped in a quiet part of the courtyard. 

“We’re going to be late,” Youngjae worried, keeping a few feet distant from the other. 

Jaebum looked at him, looked really hard, and something snapped. Youngjae burst through the barrier holding him back, and threw his arms around his hyung, not crying but simply holding on with all his might. 

He was disappointed to learn that his feelings didn’t change, didn’t come rushing back. But at least Jaebum didn’t jump away from him.

Youngjae said the thing that had weighed on him the most for all that time: “You never did say ‘I love you’ to me.”

“If you’ll let me say it now, I will,” the elder replied, surprising him a little.

“Do you?”

Jaebum pulled back to look Youngjae in the eyes, cupping his soft face in his hands. There was nothing left of the anger, the distrust, the doubt or the hurt in his eyes, just a heavy calm. 

“I always will, even if we’re not together, even if you love someone else, even if I love someone else. The love I have for you is something I’ll have forever, because even when I was scared and sad and angry, you saw something in me I couldn’t see in myself. I’ll always love you for that.”

A few tears slid down Youngjae’s face, quickly wiped away by the pads of Jaebum’s thumbs. He thought of the conversation he’d had with Mark just a couple days before, sitting quietly on their couch with Coco snoozing between them.

_ “Youngjae...I need to know what you’re thinking. You’ve been way quieter than normal, quieter than I’ve ever known you to be,” Mark said, hardly looking up from his phone. Youngjae knew he wasn’t being rude, just trying to be as non-threatening as possible. The younger rubbed the little dog’s ears, thinking. _

_ “You...you like Jaebum-hyung, don’t you.” _

_ “I do, yes.” The response was quick. Mark knew the issue, just wanted Youngjae to bring it out. _

_ That one sighed deeply. “I don’t know if I should let go. He’s so important to me, but I’m not sure I can grow more with him...I think we’ve maybe had our chance and it’s gone now.” _

_ “Take your time, Youngjae-ah, you know I won’t ever step in your way.” _

He’d thought about it a lot, and he’d had enough time. There wasn’t any point dragging out things for all of them.

“Hyung...I don’t think we’re meant to be together like this anymore.” 

Jaebum’s eyes closed, and Youngjae knew he was taking it the best he could, breathing in and out at a controlled pace before looking at him again, a little sadly but fondly.

He ventured a smile. “Youngjae-ah...everything is your decision. It always has been, I should’ve known that earlier.”

“Then...please continue to love me as your friend. I think that will be the best for both of us.”

* * *

**_Jinyoung_ **

If everything in Paris was art, Jinyoung felt like nothing at home was. Even still, many things reminded him of the art he’d made back in Europe, something he’d left behind and wanted the feelings to stay behind with it. 

He’d been back home at school in the next semester when he got the email from his professor in Paris, the one who’d sent his project on to the exhibition over the Summer. The email contained congratulations; his piece had stolen the show at the first exhibition, been requested at two more, and ultimately been given multiple recognitions. It seemed that “Therapy by J.Y.P.” was a hit. There were two pictures; one showing a screen where his film played, catching a scene where Taehyung’s elegant fingertips just brushed the underside Jimin’s chin, when seconds later Jinyoung knew Jimin would fly backward and away. In the second picture, a large crowd of people was shown reacting to that scene, in various states of emotion, tears and gasps in eyes and on lips. 

His heart ached again to look at it, but he was pleased to note that Jimin and Taehyung had also received great recognition. The dancer, who still had three years left in his schooling, had already been approached by a few performance companies. The actor, willing to leave with or without a degree, was even then working on his first film, and had a number of indie/art films lined up for the future.

Jinyoung replied thanking his professor, but turning down the offers to reveal who J.Y.P. was at this time and collaborate on other pieces. He felt that he had so much to learn still, and that in many ways “Therapy” was a fluke the likes of which he wasn’t likely to create again for some time. He certainly didn’t know where he’d find such perfect collaborators again. 

Adjusting back to classes at home was difficult. Everyone who hadn’t done as he had was comfortable with their places in the major, knew the teachers well and had head-starts on their portfolios - Jinyoung didn’t regret his time abroad; he knew his understanding of art was better for it. But when one professor assigned a film project, he found himself floundering helplessly, while the other students completed their proposals and submitted them quickly.

He bemoaned the situation to Jaebum, who was surprisingly good at listening to his troubles, Jinyoung was re-learning. As they sat in the cafe where they’d had their first lunch as almost friends again, Jinyoung sprawled over the table dramatically while Jaebum typed away at a statistics assignment, Jinyoung praying to anyone listening for some inspiration.

Finally, Jaebum got tired of his groaning. “What is your problem today?” He prodded, “Please just get it out so I can work.”

Jinyoung huffed. “We have to make a short film focusing on something unique on campus. Easy right? Except not, if you’ve been gone for a whole semester, and everyone else runs to pick the obvious stuff, and you don’t even know what clubs we have other than the film club, which I can’t choose for obvious reasons.” 

The older boy hummed, pausing briefly to cross his arms and think, one hand tugging lightly on the earrings in his left ear. 

“Why don’t you film the fencing team? That’s unique and interesting.”

Jinyoung made a face. “You want me to film Jackson?”

“No,” Jaebum clarified, rolling his eyes, “they’ve been champions for years now and almost no one even pays attention. And the coach is a legend. Jackson never shuts up about him.”

“But...it’s Jackson…”

“You’re the one who wanted an idea. Take it or leave it.”

Desperate, Jinyoung took it, and was amazed when his teacher not only approved it, but loved the idea. His classmates were more than a little salty.

Jinyoung didn’t tell Jackson, the energetic boy would find out soon enough. Instead, he threw himself into research and preparation of his mini-documentary, requisitioning the necessary equipment from the department’s storage room and familiarizing himself with fencing terms, best forms, and history. He wouldn’t allow himself to miss good shots just because he didn’t know what to look for. 

When he felt ready, he noted when the next team practice time was and headed to their gym, camera tucked neatly under his arm.

* * *

**_Jackson_ **

His teammates were in a whispering huddle when he exited the locker room and strutted out onto the floor. He always felt most confident in the padded uniform, mask tucked neatly under his arm, sabre in hand. Approaching the group, he pushed his way into where their captain was standing, trying to calm the bunch.

His teammate Kai was steaming, but he’d always been a hot-head. “Why is some guy with a camera here?” He demanded.

Jackson started.  _ A camera? Were they being scouted?  _ He scanned the area and noted a half-set-up camera in one of the corners, out of the way but in the perfect spot to catch the best angles of their practice. No one was tending to it at that moment, though.

The captain, Jinwoon, sighed. “He’s a film student. I said he could film our practices for a while. Please ignore him.”

“Why??” Another fencer questioned, the girl clearly not all that comfortable being caught on tape. 

“Because he needs subject matter for a project, he said. Also, he’s going to let us use the raw footage for practice review, so we can learn from it. Additional also, he’s hot.” 

About half the team groaned. 

“Sunbae-nim! I can’t believe you!” 

But the captain didn’t budge. Jackson didn’t care, it didn’t matter to him who was there; he performed well for audiences anyway. What was one camera?

As soon as he thought it, he glanced back at the corner to find the film student returned, fussing over the camera lens and adjusting various things meticulously. 

Jackson froze mid-step. He knew that haircut, those dorky too-big glasses. In a few quick strides he was at the other boy’s side, oozing annoyance.

“You’re filming us???” He demanded, grabbing Jinyoung’s arm. The younger boy calmly removed it from the fencer’s grasp, continuing his work.

He nodded. “For a while. Just act like I’m not even here. Unless I decide I need to interview you.”

Jackson gaped. “What? No. Can’t you film something else? Literally anything else?”

“No. The rest of the class took all the other options, and my proposal has already been reviewed and approved by my professor. I’m filming this.”

“Why me?”

Jinyoung finally paused, giving Jackson a nonplussed look. “Not you, the fencing team. It was Jaebum’s idea.”

“Wow. Wow, he’s dead,” Jackson laughed, incredulous. “After today, I have no roommate. I truly don’t have one, he should’ve known better. I have a  _ sword  _ for fuck’s sake. I’m going to bury his body under that creepy footpath. IF he gets one, his gravestone is gonna say: ‘Here lies Jaebum, his ideas were really stupid’.”

With the camera set up to Jinyoung’s standards, he stopped and patted Jackson on his padded arm. “Will you relax? I’ll be done in a handful of weeks. I promise to make you look good.”

“Bitch, I already look good. I’m the best sabre fencer on the team.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrows lifted with amusement. “That‘s pretty tall talk for such a short guy. Why don’t you prove it?”

Steaming, Jackson took a step back toward his team, who were eyeing him with curiosity. 

“I will!” he countered, “And I hope you brought an extra lens, pretty boy, because that one’s about to be shattered by my greatness!” 

It was not Jackson’s best practice. 

* * *

**_Mark and Jaebum_ **

Mark considered his movie night a success. He would’ve considered it one if only Jaebum had come as well, but that was highly unlikely from the start. But all five of their motley crew had happened to be free, and so Mark got to introduce them to one of his favorite American movies.

Jinyoung turned the DVD case over in his hands. “What’s ‘Die Hard’?” He asked, puzzled.

Mark stared at him. “You’re a film major? And you don’t know Bruce Willis?”

“I’m mostly into the artistic stuff though…”

“Next time we can watch Blade Runner, then, you know Harrison Ford at least, right?” Mark replied, nodding to elicit confirmation. Jinyoung just shook his head. Jackson laughed from where he lay on the floor, earning looks from both of them. 

On the couch, Jaebum leaned back into the cushions comfortably and let Youngjae rest casually against his shoulder. It had taken a while, but they were finally at the point where sitting like this was fine, nothing more than the reassuring comfort of dear friends spending time together. It was a relief to Jaebum, having this much, after everything. 

Mark glanced at them now and again as the movie played, how they’d subtly shift and respond without speaking, feeling relaxed with one another. He was glad for it, but a little envious at the same time. Even with Youngjae’s all-clear, he still felt a bit odd about being open and honest with his attraction. It was still kind of a new thing for him. 

Bruce Willis’ was on the brink of death in an elevator shaft when Jackson excused himself in light of an early morning practice schedule. That announcement alerted Jinyoung, who also stood, heading to go up to his room as Jackson headed for the door. 

“What time do you start?” Mark heard the younger ask through a yawn. 

Jackson sighed loudly. “Seven-thirty, and if you’re going to keep coming you could at least bring us all green tea.”

“Not coffee?”

“Ugh, no. Tea. Organic. We have to take care of our bodies.”

Mark couldn’t help chuckling to himself as the two mumbled goodbyes and dispersed, Jinyoung up the stairs and Jackson away into the night. On the couch still, Jaebum seemed lost in the film, not in the way of someone really enjoying it, but just letting his mind wander as the scenes changed, eyes lazily following the movement. Tucked under his arm was Youngjae, sound asleep despite having been enthusiastic about the movie’s plot earlier in the evening. It was late, though, and he’d done a lot that day. 

Holding back the suggestion of making Youngjae go to bed, Mark let the movie time run out, the end credits eventually scrolling at their leisurely pace across the screen. Even if they were just sitting silently, Mark liked having them both there. 

Jaebum stretched, shifting himself out from under Youngjae and lifting his arms high over his head. Mark paid close attention to the strip of slim waistline that appeared just for a second, but made sure to look elsewhere as Jaebum turned to scoop Youngjae off the couch. It was amazing how deeply the boy could sleep. 

“You can just let him sleep there tonight, he’ll be fine. He does it a lot,” Mark suggested, trying not to be too impressed that Jaebum had no trouble lifting the younger boy. He didn’t come across as a particularly muscular person, but he’d proven once or twice that physical feats didn’t worry him much. 

Jaebum shook his head. “No, he should go to bed. It’s not a problem.” He turned and carried the other toward the hall, making his way upstairs. Mark’s eyes followed them.

“Mark.”

“What, Jaebum?” he asked, mildly startled, dragging his eyes upward to meet Jaebum’s gaze as he paused halfway up the staircase. 

“Stop staring at my ass.”

He definitely had been, subconsciously. Mark’s brain gave him no defense, too tired to support him in his time of need. “Uh, right.”

Smirking, Jaebum disappeared briefly, then returned downstairs after a few minutes. He gathered the few items scattered throughout the living room(his phone, the sweatshirt Jackson had left) and headed toward the door.

“It’s late, you could just sleep on the couch,” the suggestion was out of Mark’s mouth before he could stop it, hanging in the air between them. Jaebum paused, glancing at the comfortable couch and then at Mark.

“You’re going to be up for a while, aren’t you?” he reasoned, having started to pick up on Mark’s night-owl-like habits. That one nodded. “Sorry, not tonight. Someone needs to make sure Jackson actually gets up in the morning, he’s been in a mood lately and oversleeping.”

A little disappointed, Mark hummed in response, eyes dropping to the floor. “Sure, g’night then.”

Jaebum couldn’t help finding it a bit endearing, even if he was still uncertain about him. “Mark.”

“Yeah?”

Tired, Jaebum offered the most genuine smile he could. “I’ll see you later.”

* * *

**_Youngjae_ **

Piano lessons were a great way for Youngjae to keep his mind occupied, instead of dwelling on the lingering feelings that wouldn’t seem to iron themselves out. He was getting there, just agonizingly slowly. Becoming better at playing those porcelain keys, bringing to life a melody with those clear, ringing notes always calmed him, and even recently his instructor suggested he sign up for extra tutoring time in the music department with one of the older students. It seemed like a good suggestion, so Youngjae found the time slot his teacher indicated and wrote his name in for twice a week. 

The music department in the Fine Arts building was one of his favorite places on campus. No matter what part of the building he was in, he could always hear a hint of music somewhere, filtering through the halls and spilling into rooms it wasn’t meant to, but where it was welcome anyway. 

At four o’clock that first Tuesday, Youngjae sought out music room number seven and peeked into the window to see if the tutor was present already. 

Sitting poised on the bench, with perfect playing posture, was a boy with hair dyed a light mint color and skin that nearly matched the keys in paleness. His long fingers glided effortlessly as he produced what Youngjae was sure was one of the most beautiful pieces he’d ever heard, though the version that reached his ears was heavily muted by the thick door separating them. 

The music came to a sudden halt and, as if the boy knew he was being watched, he turned and focused a sullen stare at the tiny window, followed by an eyebrow lift that seemed to ask if Youngjae was going to come inside, or what?

A little embarrassed, Youngjae pulled the door open and slipped into the room, bowing. “I’m-”

“I was wondering if you were going to just watch me like that for the whole hour, or actually come inside. We have five less minutes now, you know. It’s not like I have all this free time lying around, so please don’t waste it in the future, alright? Now, what’s your skill level? I don’t have to teach you all the keys, do I? Teacher is always giving me the kids who can’t even tell middle C from a high E. Why are you just standing there? Sit down, play something. I need to see your hand placement.” He spoke so fast, and with so much mild derision, that Youngjae barely knew what was happening before the boy was up and directing him onto the bench, then standing back and waiting. He was shorter than Youngjae, with a more petite frame and delicate features, but had the smug dryness of a personality used to looking down on others at least a little. 

Youngjae hesitated, fingers hovering over the keys without playing. “What should I play?” 

“I don’t care, play whatever you can. Play chopsticks if you want. But it might be nice to know if you have any actual skill,” the boy replied flatly. 

Nervousness nearly overwhelming him, Youngjae started on the piece he’d been learning most recently, one he’d made decent progress on and felt somewhat good about. He felt that it sounded good, the notes comfortable under his fingers. 

About half-way through, the boy stopped him. “That’s enough. Okay, could be worse. We need to work on your ear more than your hands. There’s some timing issues, it’s too by-the-book. Also, don’t over-extend with your right hand, we’ll work on changing when you move it for the higher notes. If you keep doing it this way, you’ll have carpal tunnel in a year. Might as well stop playing now if you don’t fix that. Get out the sheet music for that...you brought it, right? We’ll start by marking the changes I can see you need to make already.”

Youngjae’s head was spinning as he pulled out the pages, which the boy swiftly snatched from his hand and, taking a seat beside him, began making many tiny marks on with a red pen. It scandalized Youngjae, who had been taught only to ever use pencil with music. Using pen, and a red one at that, bespoke of either willful ignorance or an absurd level of confidence in the changes he was making. 

“Excuse me...Sunbae-nim...I’m sorry I don’t know your name,” Youngjae fumbled, trying to get a handle on the situation that seemed to be charging ahead almost without him. 

The boy didn’t look up. “Min Yoongi.”

“Ah, Yoongi sunbae-nim, is it okay to just change the sheet music like that? That’s how teacher was instructing me to play, so-”

“He sent you to me, didn’t he?” The older student asked abruptly.

Youngjae nodded.

“Then I can do anything I want. If he doesn’t want my genius, then he can stop sending me students to tutor. Now, give me your hands.”

He didn’t really have time to even offer them before Yoongi snatched them up, turning them over in his bony, cool fingers and examining them closely. Youngjae had always been told he had good hands for the piano, but he felt very uncertain of that at the moment, as though his senior could end his piano playing career by deciding they weren’t good enough right then.

Finally, he released Youngjae’s now clammy hands. “Good hands, that’s helpful. They looked good when you were playing, but I needed to check. Okay, can you tell what all these marks mean?” 

The sheet music was an almost indecipherable mess, and Youngjae’s eyes went wide, baffled by the almost hieroglyphic notations. Yoongi sighed. 

“No? Alright, I’ll play it, then we can talk through the changes, then you can try playing it. Move over.” He shooed Youngjae off the bench, centered himself, and without another hesitation set his fingers to the keys and began to play. 

It was like an entirely different song, the way Yoongi played it. What Youngjae thought had sounded good was quickly erased from his mind by the sheer perfection that all the tiny changes brought about, this new interpretation that made the song infinitely more alive. When he was finished, Youngjae simply stared in awe at the older student, his new idol. 

The boy was looking fondly at the music, as though he’d forgotten Youngjae was there momentarily, and his flat, almost sleepy look had been replaced by a warm, gummy smile. He quietly mumbled, “There, yes, much better.” 

Youngjae cleared his throat, and Yoongi looked at him with a jerk, eyes clearing as he refocused on the present. “Oh right,” he said, resuming his earlier expression, “sit down. We have forty minutes for you to learn what these all mean. On Thursday you should be able to play it just like I just did.”

Youngjae sincerely doubt his ability to do that, but eagerly hoped to be proven wrong. 

* * *

**_Jackson_ **

He had started adding extra practice time to his schedule, after that first filming day when he couldn’t seem to do anything right. If Jinyoung was going to be there watching his every move with that camera, Jackson was going to give him the best performance he could possibly capture. So he showed up twenty minutes early to every practice, stayed late any evening he didn’t have too much other homework, and added gym time wherever he could. Physically he was exhausted, but the thought of Jinyoung’s sly smirk at him making a mistake was unacceptable.

Unfortunately, Jinyoung figured him out, and started showing up to practices early as well, not filming but seeming to take actual notes, which was even  _ worse _ . After a couple days of trying to ignore him, Jackson couldn’t stand it anymore, and threw down his mask and sabre. Jinyoung jumped slightly at the sound, looking up from his notebook as Jackson stalked over to stand in front of him.

“Do you have to be here?” He demanded.

Jinyoung shook his head. “No, but I want to be.”

“Why?”

Jackson glanced down at the notebook, which contained not only a neat, organized scrawl of observations, but also some small sketches of Jackson’s different forms and postures. It was almost flattering. 

“I’m trying to understand fencing better so that my documentary won’t make any errors,” Jinyoung explained, brushing a hand over the page. “I can’t do this during the actual practice, because I need to film then. But it’s hard to recall what I noticed when I’m not watching someone do it.”

The dedication struck a chord deep in Jackson, though he was loathe to admit it. Even if it was just for a project, this was the first time anyone Jackson called a friend, even lightly, had taken such a real interest in his sport. He worked his jaw, thinking through the decision he was trying to make. Finally, Jackson lifted the notebook out of Jinyoung’s hand and sat down next to him, reading over the scribbles.

“This,” he pointed to a note, “isn’t right. You’re close, but the ‘right of way’ rule actually applies there. I can explain how it works.”

Jinyoung smiled. “Go ahead.”

* * *

 

**_Jaebum_ **

Used to the new pattern of life, Jaebum knocked on the door of the boys’ house, as he thought of it, with no hesitation. With Jackson gone on that Saturday, and suddenly finding that he didn’t have to work until that night, he wanted to see if Jinyoung or Youngjae would go down and study by the river with him as something to do. 

He wasn’t surprised when Mark opened the door, it seemed like that guy was always there. He’d wondered more than once if Mark did anything besides eat, go to class, and hangout at the house.

“What’s up?” The brunette asked, looking brightly at Jaebum. The amount the older boy smiled at him was becoming a little overwhelming. 

“Youngjae or Jinyoung home?”

Mark shook his head. “Nope, Jinyoung is at the fencing match with Jackson, and Youngjae had more piano tutoring. I’m the only one here.”

“Oh. Ok,” Jaebum replied, watching his plans for the day start to dissolve. He’d really been looking forward to the river, too.

Fingers snapped in his face, drawing his attention back to Mark. “Yah, Jaebum-ah. What did you want?”

“It’s nothing, just came to see if either of them wanted to go study by the river. Anyway, I’m gonna-”

“Sure, I’ll go.”

Jaebum blinked. “What?”

“I’ll go with you. We can bring Coco, she loves playing by the river. Oh, don’t we have homework for Accounting too? We could work on that.”

They did have homework, as Jaebum had that exact book weighing down the backpack slung over one shoulder. It hadn’t occurred to him to study with Mark, but he couldn’t deny that it made sense...and he really did want to go to the river on his free day.

“Ok,” he replied, and Mark flashed his biggest smile, disappearing to get ready while Jaebum stood in the hallway. The tiny dog trotted up to Jaebum, standing at his feet and staring up at him with it’s weird googly eyes. He made a face at it, and the thing’s mouth popped open, tongue spilling out. Mark appeared from nowhere with a leash, securing the pet before announcing he was ready. He had his bag, shoes on and a little more excitement in his face than Jaebum knew what to do with, but he noticed Mark wasn’t wearing a jacket. 

“You might want a sweater or something,” he suggested, “it gets kind of windy by the water.”

“Aw, Jaebummie, are you worrying about me?” 

Jaebum’s cheeks reddened, not unaffected by Mark’s constant and obvious flirting. The boy was ridiculously attractive, and although he was still getting used to the idea of having positive feelings toward him, Jaebum couldn’t pretend like a cute boy giving him attention did nothing to him. 

“Whatever, let’s go,” he huffed, yanking the door open. Mark followed, giggling adorably, and carrying Coco. 

It wasn’t too long a walk to the river, and Jaebum was grateful that Mark didn’t seem to require much conversation. But he was also preoccupied with looking after Coco, who seemed to want to stop and explore every corner on their way. Meanwhile, Jaebum was a little preoccupied watching Mark, who kept giggling at everything, and then would turn around to be all cool and casual, effortlessly handsome. For knowing all the cares he had, Jaebum thought he managed the carefree look extremely well. Next to that, Jaebum felt like a stiff and awkward mannequin, lacking that social ease and quick smile that came to the other so naturally. 

When they reached the park, Mark immediately let the dog off her leash, allowing her to dash away before quickly following after. Jaebum found a nice spot with a shady tree and sat down, dumping his bag beside him and guarding Mark’s as well while the other chased Coco back and forth across the lawn, running around and laughing like a little kid. 

_ No wonder Youngjae wanted to hangout with him _ , Jaebum thought,  _ this is exactly the kind of thing that kid loves to do too.  _

His reverie was interrupted as Mark returned, Coco under one arm and both of them breathing hard. He reattached the leash and roped it around the tree, securing the dog before he dropped down next to Jaebum. His normally pale cheeks were glowing with warmth from the exertion. Jaebum tried not to focus on it, instead taking out their books and instituting study time. 

They studied while Coco napped on Mark’s bag, the two boys occasionally taking breaks to stretch or eat the snacks Jaebum had stashed in his backpack, until the sun started to lower in the sky and the wind picked up. When Mark started shivering, Jaebum figured it was time to go, but not before he pulled off his hoodie and forced it into the other’s hands.

Mark looked shocked. “I’m fine,” he protested.

“No, you’re almost as blue as my sweatshirt. Just put it on,” Jaebum countered, gathering his books back into his pack.

The shivering boy considered more argument, then broke down and wriggled into the warm garment as a particularly chilly gust blew through. “Thanks,” he said, snuggling into the hood and pulling the sleeves down long over his hands. “This smells like you,” he observed casually, chin tucked low under the collar. 

Jaebum’s nerve-endings prickled at the comment, and he glanced at Mark, noting the way he looked small and boyish bundled up in the too-big hoodie, bright eyes contrasting starkly against his extra cold-pale skin. 

“Don’t be weird,” he replied, looking away. Mark snickered, grabbing his own bag and Coco so they could head back. 

When they reached the house, Jinyoung was sitting on the couch with his laptop open, a mess of papers and fencing-related things spread out over the coffee table. Jackson lay on the floor on his back, exhausted from his competition, and both of them looked up with surprise when the pair walked in together.

“Where have you two been all day?” Jinyoung asked.

Mark released Coco, who immediately ran to attack Jackson, licking at his face while the boy tried to save himself. “At the river,” Mark replied lightly, starting to take off Jaebum’s sweater. “Thanks for letting me go with you,” he addressed back to him.

Jaebum shrugged. “Sure. You can give that back to me later,” he added, “you’re still kind of blue.”

He excused himself, heading out to make his way to work, but not missing the surprise on Mark’s face, as the boy stood there with one arm out and the hoodie halfway over his shoulder. 

Mark hurried back inside the cozy fabric, reveling in the warmth and softness. When he looked up, Jinyoung and Jackson were both staring, jaws loose. 

“What?” He blushed. 

* * *

**_Jinyoung_ **

The more time Jinyoung spent editing footage of fencing, the more he realized he’d been wrong to assume it would be harder to find artistic muses back in Korea. The fluidity with which the team orchestrated their attacks, parries and other movements to achieve victory in a match was impressive in the very least, and definitely an art in the really good cases. Specifically, in Jackson. 

Maybe it was because he’d spent so much time explaining everything to him, so that Jinyoung couldn’t watch Jackson without seeing the tiny flicks of his fingers or wrist that could swiftly turn his opponent on his head and win him the point. He marveled at the footwork, the precise aim and flawless stances, the concentration and energy it all took. Truthfully, he just marveled at Jackson, who truly was the best of them, representing the team most often at matches and tournaments, and rarely coming home without a trophy in hand. 

What Jinyoung liked best was that, being honest, Jackson wasn’t actually boastful about it. He was embarrassingly supportive of his team, always humble in accepting praise, and usually deferred the praise to his excellent coach. Who was, by the way, exceedingly excellent. The man’s story had become an important section of Jinyoung’s documentary, and was largely supplemented by Jackson’s own testimony.  

As he watched the uncut footage of Jackson’s interview, Jinyoung couldn’t help smiling to himself, growing fond of the uncharacteristically high laugh the fencer often released. He kept going on about how the most important factor in becoming a successful fencer was staying healthy, being careful to eat well and take care of your body. Jinyoung let his eyes wander over the figure on the screen, noting the taut muscle in his arms and firm thighs, and the way maintaining such a high level of fitness made the angles of his face sharp and pleasing. When Jinyoung thought of his own low-activity lifestyle, he figured he could stand to do a little more exercising. 

But that sounded like more work, which Jinyoung was not interested in. No, he was much more interested in just appreciating Jackson’s training instead.

* * *

**_Jackson_ **

“Come on, you should try it! Let me show you how to do an attack,” Jackson begged, tugging on Jinyoung’s arm. The rest of the team had cleared out after practice, and it was while Jinyoung packed up his equipment that Jackson decided he should try fencing a little himself.

Jinyoung vigorously refused. “No way,” he laughed, “I am not putting on one of those absurd costumes and trying to poke you with a giant needle.”

Jackson feigned insult. “I cannot believe after all this time you would say such words. You should be honored that the university’s top fencer is willing to give you even ten minutes worth of his time.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Please! You don’t have to wear the gear, we’ll just use practice sabres with extra blunt tips. No danger whatsoever.” When Jinyoung still didn’t budge, Jackson pulled out his last-resort move, widening his already large, puppy-like eyes to a ridiculous size and pouting up at the slightly taller boy. He saw a crack.

“Jinyoungie...pleeeeeaaase??”

The boy faltered, stubbornness breaking under the pressure of Jackson’s cuteness. The fencer loved to see that tactic work, and whooped in victory when Jinyoung sighed and relented. He quickly equipped the film student with a blade, laughing a little at the sight of him with it in hand while wearing a cardigan, slacks and loafers. 

“Now, show me your  _ en garde _ stance,” he commanded. Jinyoung hesitantly shifted his feet, attempting an awkward and ultimately weak position. Jackson tutted, stepping up to make adjustments. First, he showed Jinyoung how to properly grip and point the blade. He then shifted behind him, amazed at how he could be holding literally every part of his body wrong.

“Tighten up here,” he said, reaching an arm around to pat Jinyoung’s stomach, indicating his abdominal core muscles, “and also straighten here.” There, he ran a hand down from the middle of his back to the top of his tailbone, pressing lightly. Silent, Jinyoung followed his instructions carefully. For some reason, the quiet made Jackson feel a little more serious, or maybe it was just the close proximity? 

He focused on Jinyoung’s feet next. “Keep your stance wide and your dominant foot forward,” he instructed, sliding his leg between the other’s two, and tapping the inside of his foot to widen the space slightly. His hands gripped Jinyoung’s hips lightly, turning them to the proper angle. “Like this,” he breathed, finishing that adjustment and drawing his hands up to the boy’s shoulders, aligning them as well. The air in the room seemed now almost as tense as his most heated matches, and Jinyoung had yet to say a word. Shaking himself out a slight daze, Jackson put some space between himself and the beginner, walking over to take his place on the other end of the practice mat. When he met his gaze, Jinyoung’s face was unreadable. 

“Let’s just see what you’ve picked up,” he suggested, throat feeling dry under Jinyoung’s stare, as he adopted his own stance. “Allez!”

He took half a step forward and hesitated, surprised to find Jinyoung advancing aggressively. But the taller boy did not use his advantage to make a proper attack, instead distracting Jackson with a sloppy swing of the sabre before using the opening to essentially kick the fencer’s feet out from under him. Jackson went down in an instant, stumbling backward until he landed flat on his back. Jinyoung tossed his sabre aside to follow him down, dropping in a straddle over his waist and placing one hand on the mat, the other on Jackson’s tank-topped chest.

Breathing heavily, Jackson’s eyes traveled across the handsome face above him, paying close attention to the tempting lips as he struggled to speak. “I think you’re confused on what a  _ touch _ is. I’m not giving you the point for this.”

Jinyoung smirked. “Don’t care,” he replied, and quickly swooped down to capture Jackson’s mouth in a kiss before he could say anything else. After the shock passed, Jackson responded eagerly, letting the adrenaline take over as his hands wandered up to Jinyoung’s hips and elsewhere, traveling all the places he’d prodded earlier with new interest. He figured he liked this kind of touch much better. 

* * *

**_Youngjae_ **

When Youngjae’s fingers had played the last notes, he immediately looked to Yoongi for approval. It had become an instinct.

Yoongi was clapping. Admittedly, not with a whole lot of enthusiasm, but he looked pleased and that made Youngjae’s heart glow with happiness. He beamed back at his tutor, eager to hear the praise that was sure to come next.

“Alright. What else do you have? Teacher must have given you something else by now. Let’s see it,” Yoongi waited expectantly for Youngjae to produce new sheet music, blinking at him calmly. Youngjae couldn’t help sagging in his seat a little bit, having been really looking forward to the affirmations Yoongi was  _ sure  _ to give him this time. He’d done better on this song than any previous one, driving his friends crazy with all his practicing. 

Instead of pulling out the music, Youngjae began to gather up his bag, stowing the completed song. 

“Youngjae-ssi, what are you doing? We still have thirty minutes,” Yoongi questioned, looking surprised which was almost a nice change from the constant expression of light disinterest he usually wore. 

Youngjae gave a polite but sad smile. “I think I'm done for today, I don't really feel like doing more right now.”

Before he could get up, Yoongi took a seat beside him on the bench and laid a hand on his arm, stopping his progress on leaving. “Why? Did something happen? You just played the best I've heard from you yet. I'm not sure even I could play that piece better than you just did. How can you feel like stopping after that?” 

“Hyu- I mean, Sunbae-nim, do you mean that?” Youngjae asked, amazed at the sudden change of temperament. 

Yoongi smiled, the kind of soft genuine smile Youngjae had only seen a handful of times when he was sure his Senior didn't realize he was looking. “Yes, I do. And you can call me hyung if you want, Youngjae-ah.”

The younger boy beamed, basking in the approval and, he realized, starting to recognize that he had developed a bit of a crush. 

* * *

**_Mark and Jaebum_ **

“So the entire table is covered in rice, and the lady keeps asking me why I brought them bulgogi when that's clearly what she ordered, but-” Jaebum was halfway through telling Mark and Youngjae about the crazy couple he'd encountered at work when the younger one came to an abrupt stop, causing Jaebum to stumble and bump into him. “Yah, Jae-ah, why?”

He stared ahead, a slow blush creeping up his neck as he caught sight of a mint-haired boy with fair skin and a gummy smile. 

The two older boys followed his gaze, noticing the few persons standing together and talking not far away. There were two more with that one: both taller, one with a rounder face and slightly dangerous look to him, and the other with pinkish hair and noticeably handsome features. The three were chatting brightly. 

Mark’s brow furrowed lightly. “Youngjae-ah, who are they? Do you know them?” 

Jaebum looked a bit concerned, matching the tone of Mark’s suspicion with the expression he wore. 

“That's him, my tutor,” Youngjae admitted quietly, suddenly very shy after having just been smiling and full of energy. 

“Which one?...the green hair?”

He wrinkled his nose, blush increasing. “It's more mint, don’t you think?”

Mark suddenly laughed. He'd been able to tell since the last tutoring session Youngjae came back from that something was a little different. “Well, let's say hello! Look, he’s coming this way,” he observed, as indeed Yoongi was leaving the other two and walking their direction. Youngjae seemed to panic, unsure what to do with his hands as the other approached, and as he struggled with what to say Jaebum took the opportunity to grab Mark by the hood and drag him back around the corner into a small alley nearby.

“Yah! Im Jaebum! Let go! Why did you do that?” Mark barked, struggling against where Jaebum had him pinned to the wall, keeping him from going over to meet Youngjae’s tutor. 

Jaebum pressed his shoulder a little harder. “Stop it, let Youngjae talk to him! You’ll just mess it all up by saying something stupid.”

“I won’t!”

“You will. Now be quiet!”

Mark huffed, and kept struggling in annoyance.

“Mark,  _ stop that. _ ” At Jaebum’s tone the older boy looked up, intrigued to observe a slightly stressed look on the others face, and realizing suddenly that all the wriggling around might in fact be creating some awkward friction, with the way one of Mark’s legs was trapped between Jaebum’s…

Mark stopped, because he couldn't believe it. He knew Jaebum had been warming up to him, even started flirting, but this was  _ new. _ “Jaebum is this...turning you on?” Jaebum ignored him, looking around the corner to spy on Youngjae talking to his tutor. It seemed to be going well. 

Mark didn't like being ignored. He subtly, purposefully shifted his hips against Jaebum’s, who continued to hold him in place, but tensed.

“Jaebum-ah...I asked you a question,” Mark breathed hotly into his ear, which was already positioned right by his mouth. Jaebum’s skin prickled; Mark needed to stop  _ now. _ He shushed Mark, firmly placing a ringed finger against the boy’s lips. 

With shiny, sharp canines, Mark responded by opening his mouth and biting it, and refusing to let it go.

“Fuck! Mark!?” Jaebum jerked back facing him, instantly pissed off. But Mark just smiled evilly around his smarting finger, which threw Jaebum for a loop, then started tonguing at it instead of biting it, which threw him  _ more. _ Youngjae forgotten, the taller boy dwelled briefly in mystified paralysis as the other inched closer and closer to a dangerous, but extremely appealing line. 

Mark slid thin fingers into Jaebum’s belt loops and dragged him closer, sighing out a little moan...and everything was suddenly on fire for Jaebum who, when he could finally move, drew his finger slowly out of the other’s mouth and over his bottom lip, hypnotized by the motion. He stopped on Mark’s chin, taking hold of it. 

“This is so not the time or place…” he said, surprised to hear how low his own voice had become.

Mark countered, voice equally gravelly. “So what?” 

It felt like a challenge, and Jaebum hated being challenged by Mark, and they were already pretty secluded in that alley, so he pulled Mark’s chin up and forward a little and bit Mark back, around the same spot where he once aimed a fist. Mark yelped at the sharp pain, but that was quickly replaced by another moan as Jaebum released his lip and softened his mouth against it, changing his angle so it was no longer an attack but an exchange of breath instead. 

Then Youngjae’s laugh rang out, startling them apart, Jaebum red and flustered and Mark a flushed mess clinging to the wall for support. 

“Not...the place…” Jaebum panted, every nerve in his body tingling painfully.

“But, the time?”

They stared at each other for a moment before Jaebum breathed a “yes,” and grabbed Mark’s wrist, dragging him down to the other end of the alley and away from Youngjae.

* * *

**_Youngjae_ **

Youngjae said goodbye to his tutor, who gave him his number and said to call and “we need to work on your fingering,” with an actual wink before he walked away that left the younger blushing furiously and speechless. He looked around for Mark and Jaebum, desperately needing to get confirmation that, yes, that did just happen, but couldn't find them anywhere.

With a sharp ding his phone alerted him of a text.

_ Jaebum: Jae, sorry, Mark forgot his sweater so we had to go back. We’ll come walk you back from class later. _

Youngjae nodded to himself, typed back an “ok” and pocketed his phone. It wasn't unusual for Mark to leave behind something he needed. He walked for a few minutes before stopping again, memory bringing forward a picture of them leaving the house earlier. He was...he was sure Mark was wearing his sweater when they left. Weird. 

* * *

**_Jinyoung_ **

For the second time in his academic career, Jinyoung's work received unprecedented positive response. While a number of his classmates had done similar documentary-style projects, the artistry with which he portrayed the fencing team evoked unique emotion and revealed insight into their world that few on the campus had. 

The faculty asked Jinyoung's permission to post it on the school's website and use it for promotional materials, in addition to asking if he'd be willing to consider doing similar work for some of the other campus activities. They'd even pay him. 

Jinyoung was flattered, and truly proud of his work. He wasn't sure just how much time he'd have to commit to other in-depth projects like it, but it all sounded like good portfolio material. The reaction from his friends, however, was far more important to him. They'd never see “Therapy;” they didn't even know about it. But this he showed with nervous anticipation of their response, and beamed in embarrassed delight at their compliments, with the exception of Jackson who had gone home to Hong Kong to visit family the weekend he revealed the finished product. 

Jinyoung was sitting on his bed revising notes when he heard a commotion downstairs. Whoever had arrived hardly paused in the hall, as Jinyoung could hear Mark shouting and a hurried clamor up the stairs. He'd just stood up to investigate when the door flew open and a white-blonde blur tackled him back onto the bed, the door kicked shut somehow in the process. 

Blinking in shock, Jinyoung stared up at Jackson who was grinning so widely it looked like his face would break in half. 

“Uh, hi, welcome back?” Jinyoung offered, confused as to why the other was sitting on his hips and about to explode with excitement. Not that he minded...

With one elated laugh, Jackson took Jinyoung’s face into his hands, leaned down and kissed him soundly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he said, punctuating each expression of gratitude with its own kiss. After a minute of this pattern, Jinyoung managed to interject-

“For...what?” 

Jackson stopped long enough to beam at him again, pull a folded paper out of his back pocket and unfold it so that Jinyoung could read what it said. The paper was a letter, specifically one that offered Jackson additional scholarship money for his fencing. 

“That's not all,” the blonde added, “Coach received a commendation and the team is getting additional funding. We can finally renovate the practice room. He wept when he saw the video, Jinyoungie. I've never seen him like that.”

Stunned, Jinyoung read the letter a second time, trying to process. His video had produced this kind of result? How? 

“That's wonderful, Jackson you deserve it really,” he congratulated, but Jackson just laughed. 

“Sure we do, but it wouldn’t have happened without you.”

The gentle caressing of Jinyoung’s cheek that Jackson included with the sentiment quieted the younger boy. All his projects meant something to him, even the small ones, but to have Jackson there, a live and breathing person influenced by something he'd created, and someone he suddenly realized he cared scarily about…

Jinyoung also realized the deafening sound he kept hearing was the frantic beating of his own heart, which had significantly increased in rate as Jackson's grin morphed into a heated expression focused mainly on the others mouth. 

“Jinyoung-ah,” he breathed, one thumb repeating a soft circular motion on that one’s jaw, “will you go out with me? On a real date, please? As much as I love our wild makeout sessions on the sweaty gym floor, I'd really just like to buy you dinner once.” 

The younger boy couldn't imagine saying no to such a request, especially pinned to his own bed by one of the top fencers in the nation, his brain a little fuzzy from that already. He nodded encouragingly, and pressed his cheek into Jackson's palm. The blinding smile Jinyoung didn't know how he'd missed in their high school days blossomed over the blonde’s face, and he once again connected their lips. It was a different kiss to the ones before; Jackson's typical style was hot, demanding and even a bit needy. Instead, Jinyoung could feel his insides melting with the sweetness of Jackson's touch, molding their lips gently together and delicately padding fingers along his jaw. When the boy’s other hand ghosted along Jinyoung’s side, his breathing hitched, and suddenly the sweet kisses were not enough. 

Getting his own hands involved, Jinyoung slipped cool fingers up under the other’s shirt and felt along his ribs, earning a surprised gasp. That gasp he cut off by pushing his chin up, deepening the kiss by taking the opening to venture his tongue into the other’s mouth. Jackson picked up on the cue and matched the change in pace immediately, moving his hand from Jinyoung’s cheek to his thick hair. When Jackson resettled his position on Jinyoung’s hips, he couldn't stop the low moan that escaped as a result of that pressure. 

Jackson drew back slightly, looks of surprise and of hot desire battling for dominance on his sharp features. 

Flushed and feeling strained, Jinyoung pawed at the waistband of Jackson's fitted training sweats before demanding, “Lock the door.”

Jackson jumped to complete the task and was back before Jinyoung could even fully remove his sweater. 

* * *

**_Yugyeom and BamBam_ **

The two younger boys sat together in the old recliner chair Mark had salvaged, observing their hyungs and trying to make sense of the new order that somehow had arisen in their absence. When Youngjae had invited them to come visit for Mark’s next movie night, they’d jumped at the invitation; keeping up with him was easier than keeping up with Jaebum, but regardless they had only a general sense of all that had transpired. To see the results in person was another experience.

Cuddled cozily on the old hand-me-down couch, the four older boys who had seemed most at odds with each other looked now like the closest of friends...and then some. One the one end, Jinyoung sat hugging a pillow with his legs draped over the lap of Jackson, who was hugging  _ him _ . Next to Jackson, Mark curled comfortably to rest his head on Jaebum’s thigh, making it easy for Jaebum to keep a hand affectionately combing through his hair. They were altogether a soft pile of love and friendship, and the two high schoolers missed most of the movie while staring and whispering to each other, trying to determine how things had turned around to this. 

“I’m not going blind, right,” Bambam muttered to his best friend, “that is actually, honestly Im Jaebum and Mark Tuan? Our Jaebum? And his mortal enemy?”

Yugyeom shrugged, incredulous. “Mortal enemies don’t play with each other’s hair and smile when they think no one’s looking, unless every drama I’ve seen has been entirely wrong.”

“Then what is this? Jackson-hyung and Jinyoung-hyung...snuggling? I’m ninety-eight percent sure I saw Jinyoungie-hyung’s hand squeezing a  _ little too high _ on Jackson-hyung’s thigh just now and, dammit, I want to know wha-”

“Shh, you’re getting too loud, hyung,” Yugyeom chided, catching the inquisitive looks Jinyoung was shooting their direction, “unless you want eomma over there to beat you up, I think we should analyze this later. We can just ask Youngjae for the details.”

BamBam chuckled. “Youngjae-hyung? Who can’t stop smiling like a fool because of whoever he’s texting right now? Fine, we’ll interrogate him later!”

In another chair across from the couch, Youngjae was indeed wholly concentrated on his phone, ignoring the movie entirely and occasionally giggling. The other boys had become used to this, and often teased him for it. 

Before the movie was quite finished, Jackson and Jinyoung excused themselves simultaneously and, unlike the time months ago, simply both went to Jinyoung’s room, leaving the two young visitors baffled. Not any less baffling was the sight of Mark coaxing Jaebum to stretch out with him and fill the space they’d left on the couch, cutely entwining his slim body with the other boy’s broader one. They didn’t move when the movie ended, Mark instead sleepily mumbling that the guests could use his room if they wanted, while Jaebum pulled the older boy over him like a blanket and nuzzled into his neck. 

“This happens a lot…” Youngjae admitted with a grin as he shooed Yugyeom and BamBam upstairs, forcing them to drag their eyes away from the sight. 

“The cuddling or the sleeping on the couch?” Yugyeom asked, in sync with BamBam who suspiciously questioned, “Should we be concerned about Mark’s bed?” 

Youngjae just laughed and shook his head. “Both. And I think it’s fine.”

BamBam didn’t seem reassured, but didn’t question further. 

“We still have so many questions, hyung,” said Yugyeom, eyeing Jinyoung’s door as they passed. 

He nodded. “I’ll tell you later, it’s kind of a long story.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this helps anyone who felt like there was too much of a jump between things before! Let me know who's pairing you like best and what you thought of the guest appearances :))))) and I apologize for the distinct lack of YugBam, I just couldn't do any more and I'm honestly bad at writing them.


	4. Summit - Epilogue

A stranger who stopped to take a look inside the home-y cafe in the quaint downtown, not far from the college campus, might have encountered there a small group of friends all acting as though the place belonged to them. That person might even think of going somewhere else for lunch, considering how lively the group could be, having a hard time staying quiet when they were all together like that. But if they decided to stay, that stranger might observe the group with interest, noticing the small dynamics between the members and the subtle way this one leaned a little closer to that one, or finding out which one was the most dramatic.

They might see two fresh-faced boys, slightly younger than the rest, with brightly dyed hair and mischievous grins, who looked like they'd been in each other's company their whole lives. Quickly their names would come to light, as the others often begged the thinner one, Bambam, to settle down and eat his food, or as they teased the tall one, Yugyeom, for acting like the oldest when he was really at the bottom of the chain. But the stranger would be able to tell that there was nothing but fondness for those two more recent additions to the group, treated like the youngest children in a happy family.

Impossible to ignore would be the two with the loudest laughs; one, who couldn't stay in his seat and constantly jumped up to physically hassle another, or demonstrate a story about fencing with his whole body, or just out of pure energy. He'd laugh at his own jokes, shaking the blonde hair out of his handsome face, and soaking up the approving glances of his friends. And the other, who nearly swooned with laughter, who seemed to emit actual sunshine - the stranger might be able to tell that the others regarded him like a precious treasure, and that acting against him would cost a person dearly. He'd soon learn that the first was Jackson, and the second Youngjae, and that their energy acted like vitamins to the group on a daily basis. 

The person observing these friends would, after a time, not be able to look away from the quieter, strikingly handsome one, of course. Their eyes would have noticed him glance from friend to friend with mother-like warmth, a calm expression on his nearly perfectly symmetric features. They'd see how he occasionally spoke up, usually to nag warmly or tease rather savagely, but always with a sharp wit and sparkle in his eye. The others would call him Jinyoungie, or Jinyoung-ah, or Jinyoungie-hyung, or even eomma...or, if they were Jackson, they'd just look at him softly, perhaps sneaking a hand under the table for a few seconds to rest it on his leg affectionately. But the person might not notice that, unless they were really perceptive. 

They'd have to be blind though not to notice the remaining two, who usually sat side-by-side and regarded the world with one perspective. Who looked like they'd come to the revelation that words weren't always needed, especially if you were prone to using the wrong ones, and that certain looks could communicate just enough. The one with slimmer, cuter features and lighter hair would giggle a lot at the others, would pop up sometimes in exuberant rebuke of another one's teasing, and would always relax back next to the one beside him; that one could only be described as chic, and even sexy. Any stranger would have to admit to that. With broad shoulders and a usually serious expression, he would surprise the onlooker by suddenly becoming almost unbearably gentle, his love for the others displayed clear as day on his angled features. 

A stranger wouldn't know what all they had been through, this group. To them it would seem the most natural thing in the world for them to enjoy a meal together that way, acting as though nothing in life could prevent them from spending the rest of eternity together in that cafe. They would note the one, Mark, and the other, Jaebum, holding hands peacefully and lovingly, and never guess at the years they spent as separate as distant planets in galaxies invisible to one another. It would look as though they held the universe in line, the other boys in their hands, and each other in their hearts more easily than the sun rose each morning. Someone just watching them would be ignorant, yes, but ironically testifying to how far they had come. 

So if a person were to do that, they might witness something beautiful, or they might not, or they might leave without ever going inside. It wouldn't matter, though, because the group would still be there. After years of misunderstandings, having reached their summit and found the air clear and the light shining down on them, they realized that there was so much more they could be, if they let themselves. 

And they did.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I realize there are some elements I like....skipped over dealing with. And lots perspectives I didn't show. This took me so long and kind of a lot of agonizing to finish that I'm not sure I want to go back in and deal with any of them, but if there's interest in say, Jinyoung's or Jackson's or Youngjae's povs, comment about it.


End file.
